Life

I have made a few kudos blogs for members of Litnet, whose qualities were etched forever into my corner of the internet, where a passing wanderer may happen upon them.
But there is one who is not of Litnet, but who has seen my blog, that I feel deserves an enduring testament to her greatness. And that is my Sunshine.
Perhaps I have mentioned her before, perhaps not. She is a guardian of many names. She is Mrs. Allen. She is my orchestra teacher. She is Sunshine. You wonder why I call her that-- I do not.
The sun's course is constant, unchanging-- so is she. The sun is warm-- so is she. The sun wakes me every morning-- she is the reason I rise. Last year, when she first usurped this role-- this burden-- I greeted her every morning as I greeted others: "good morning, sunshine." Soon, I realized that she was the only one I really wanted to see to greet.
Family is what you make of it-- I have adopted her. She has adopted me.
She is a gift. I wonder often what I have done to deserve her. Sometimes it is idle wonder in minutes I have to myself-- other times I lay awake at night, wondering. I have done nothing to endear myself to any higher power, and yet, here she is. A gift from god.
She is an ally, a comrade. A fellow warrior. She is a guardian, a protector. She asked last night, who takes care of me [emotionally]. Until recently my first response was myself. I took care of myself. And everyone else around me. But without thinking, I answered "You, Sunshine. You take care of me." It was reflexive. I wasn't flattering her, or complimenting her. I spoke only the bare-bones truth.
We are devoted to each other, pledged. My aid is hers whenever she should call upon me-- no matter what I am doing, for anything else can be dropped. There is nothing that out-prioritizes her. And I know that whenever I need her, I can summon her, and she will come. She will even use her Bluetooth to talk to me and make dinner, when I am in the waiting room of a hospital, and my sister has just been bakeracted. When I am lonely, I don't even need to say so, for she knows me, and she understands the signs I don't even know I'm making.
She is a blessing, a gift. She is the rock of my sanity. She is my sanctuary-- not just her classroom, but her. I can let my guard down, and know I'm safe. She is no threat to me, and she will not let anyone near me who is. I would fight for her-- she would fight for me.
She is beautiful. She has a beautiful face, and an even more beautiful soul.
I didn't know I could ever love someone so much. All of my eloquence, for all it's worth, fails me, here. I cannot describe it, even-- especially-- to her. That frustrates me, but I would rather feel this than be able to describe it.
Every time I want to give up, she is the reason I keep going, and I love her to death.
This is her tribute, though it could never begin to do her justice.