When Aunt Sunny came to Barstow to help mom when I was five, light and lightness filled our house. From the moment she walked through the front door, it was clear Sunny was the alpha. She wasn’t arrogant, but mysteriously self-composed and confident. Enchanting. Two years younger than my mom – 22 – Sunny was tall, thin, blonde, tanned, tattooed – wearing a tight black Harley shirt and tight fitting, high-waisted jeans. She was the most physically beautiful person I’d ever seen. She exuded something I couldn’t identify then, but which I understand now – a kind of pressure bomb sexuality. Something that could go off any second. But it was contained. There was no hair trigger. She was fully in control and I fell in love with her.
And my god, the way she made my mom laugh and come alive in a brand new way. Mom’s anxiety of being alone with two little girls and a dog after Reggie left was replaced by a new confidence, catching some of Sunny’s infectious self, but also waking up to a part of herself that involved a deeply felt history.
Sunny arrived in Barstow with her boyfriend, Dennis. He didn’t stay long, only a few days because he had to get back to personal business in New Mexico, but I was delighted he was around. He was the most non-threatening man I’d ever met until then. He, too, glowed with a similar shine. Also, he was hilarious and would entertain my sister Kim and me by sitting in a chair, wrapping his arms underneath his knees, and lighting his farts. Continue reading