The Day I Learned to Thank the Sun
There are moments in life when a simple, familiar presence suddenly reveals its depth—when something ordinary becomes a quiet doorway to meaning. For me, recently, that presence has been the sun.
I don’t know exactly when it happened. Maybe it was in the slow tenderness of turning 40. Maybe it was in the quiet mornings when I felt the light on my skin and noticed how deeply I needed it. Or maybe it was in those gentle, emotional days when I caught myself whispering thank you to something far greater than I could name.
But lately, I’ve been connecting with the sun in a way that feels almost like a love letter, a lesson, and a returning home.
The sun has been teaching me what consistency feels like. Every day, even on the ones when I can’t see it, I know it’s there—steady, precise, unwavering. Clouds come and go, storms roll in, life becomes messy, unpredictable, overwhelming.
And yet, behind all of that, the sun keeps rising. It keeps showing up. It keeps burning with a quiet certainty that feels like truth. Realizing this brought me a sense of comfort I didn’t know I needed.
A few days ago, as I turned 40, I started wondering:
How many times have I actually seen the sun in my lifetime?
When I searched for the answer, the number felt almost magical—thousands of sunrises and sunsets, thousands of days full of light. That number wasn’t just math. It was a record of how many times life offered me a beautiful day, even when I didn’t notice. A record of how many times warmth touched my skin, how many times the world gently reminded me: you’re still here.
And in that moment, gratitude washed over me with a force I can still feel.
Gratitude for the days when I felt alive.
Gratitude for the days when I didn’t, but the sun rose anyway.
Gratitude for the cycles, the seasons, the pauses.
Gratitude for the simple fact that light always returns.
Discovering gratitude in the sun has been like discovering a new language for life—one made of warmth, clarity, and quiet precision. When I look up now, I feel something opening inside me, something that whispers:
Even when you don’t see the light, trust it’s still there. Your brightest days aren’t gone; they’re simply waiting.
The sun reminds me that I don’t have to rush. I don’t have to force anything. I just have to keep showing up—like it does. And little by little, the clouds will pass, and I will see myself clearly again.
Maybe that’s the greatest gift the sun gives us: not just light, but perspective. Not just warmth, but meaning. Not just another day, but a reminder that life, in its quiet precision, keeps offering beauty even when we are too tired to look for it.
Every time I look at the sun now, I feel that wave of gratitude returning—deep, grounding, almost emotional. And I hold it gently, knowing that something so simple can change the entire tone of a day.
Maybe someone reading this will look at the sun tomorrow and feel a little of what I feel. Maybe they’ll also remember that even on the days when everything feels heavy, the light is still there—patient, unwavering, waiting to be seen again.
And perhaps that is enough to make a day beautiful.
Gratitude may seem simple, but it profoundly shapes the way we experience ourselves, our relationships, and our place in the world. If you’re longing to cultivate more gratitude, clarity, and emotional connection in your life, therapy can help you begin that journey with gentleness and intention.
Feel free to explore my Therapy Options—I would be honoured to walk alongside you.
With warmth, light, and love,
Andressa
