You Are My Sunshine

We hold candles and sing You Are My Sunshine and I remember how I sang it for my son’s kindergarten class because it was the only song I remembered the words to, and I think about how the woman who was killed by a hit and run driver the night before, being only 36 years old, could have been my child, she was somebody’s child and maybe they sang You Are My Sunshine to her, probably, because we know she sang it to other people because that is what we are told while our candles burn and drip, that she had a beautiful smile and always worried about others getting enough food, all the while living under a bridge below the street where last night a speeding car catapulted her into the air, before she had a chance to live somewhere else, a place with a window where she could put a lamp and when she would come home she could see the lamp and know that the light was on in her place, she wouldn’t have that, she would have this instead, this with a crescent moon and Venus rising in the early night sky.