Heartwarming story: A Room Full of Warm Sunshine
Love is the brightest light in the heart.
Back then, he was just an ordinary coal miner, often descending hundreds of meters to excavate the light. Coal mining was a dirty, exhausting, and dangerous job.
At that time, she had no stable job and mainly took care of the family, occasionally doing some odd jobs at a service company associated with the mine.
Despite her frail body, she had many tasks to handle every day, but she felt very happy because she said she married a considerate man.
He often shared amusing stories from the mine with her, like who ate several large buns in one meal, who tied his wife’s red handkerchief, or who was the first to discover premium coking coal.
He never talked about the dangerous situations like high gas concentrations nearly causing explosions or severe shaking at the workface. However, she, being perceptive, could sense the harsh conditions underground but pretended not to know.
Her diligence was well-known in the mining area. When he came home after his shift, she wouldn’t let him do any chores. When he tried to help, she would stop him, saying, “You rest well, spend some time in the sun; it’s good for your health.”
One cold winter day, as he walked into the house, he saw her at the window, drawing a large, golden sun with the concentration of a schoolgirl.
Curious, he asked her why she suddenly started drawing the sun.
She softly replied, “It’s winter now, and the days are short. You don’t see the sun when you go down the mine, and you don’t see it when you come up. I worry that working in the dark all day makes you cold and fearful, so I drew a sun. Before you go down the mine each day, you can look at it, and maybe it will warm your heart.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, his gaze lingering on her and the sun. For the first time, he realized her romantic side, like a poet.
At that time, they were just 30, loving each other deeply, making their hard life warm and sweet.
Time flew by, and soon it was 20xx. Their son had graduated from university and found a job in the capital. He had become a mine manager, overseeing hundreds of workers. They moved into a spacious and bright house, bought a car, and had a considerable amount of savings in the bank. Life was getting better each day.
But then, tragedy struck. While she was at the market buying groceries, she was suddenly attacked by a mentally ill person, who struck her head with a rock. After several months of treatment, she finally got out of bed but was so mentally impaired that she didn’t even recognize him.
He resolutely resigned from his job and took her to the best hospitals in the country, but no miracle happened. Every day, she ate and drank in a daze, holding his hand and asking to bask in the sun, regardless of the season or weather. Seeing her like this, he felt indescribable pain.
But there was one thing that could keep her quietly indoors: drawing the sun. As soon as he mentioned drawing the sun, she would sit down, holding the brush as seriously as before, drawing one big sun after another.
After finishing a drawing, she would ask him if it looked good. Seeing him nod and hearing him say it was beautiful, she would smile happily and stick the sun drawing on the wall, saying, “Look at the sun, it will make you feel warm.”
Soon, all the rooms were filled with her sun drawings. When there was no more space, he would secretly take some down at night, making room for the new ones she drew during the day.
Sometimes, she would sit obediently on his lap, pointing to the suns all over the room, happily murmuring, “It’s great, with so many suns, you won’t be cold.”
“Yes, I’m not cold,” he gently hugged her thin shoulders, cherishing her like a treasure.
Time flowed gently by. He got used to watching her draw suns every day and helping her stick them up. Day after day, year after year, his hair turned from gray to white.
In 20xx, while she was sitting on the bed clapping her hands as he stuck up her latest sun drawing, she suddenly tilted her head and collapsed, never waking up again. At that moment, all the suns in the room lost their brightness.
After she passed away, their son wanted to take him to live in Beijing, but he shook his head, saying, “I want to stay here a bit longer to keep your mother company; I’m afraid she’ll be lonely.”
He carefully unfolded each sun drawing, marked with dates, and laid them out from the bedroom to the living room in chronological order. He gently stroked them one by one, as if touching the vivid days that had just passed. Warmth, natural and gentle, washed over his heart.
He placed her first and last sun drawings together and gazed at them for a long time. He saw their more than fifty years of mutual support and care, just like those suns filling the room—simple yet rich, ordinary yet splendid.
Few people knew about the room full of suns, just as few knew about their love. But they could proudly tell the world—despite how ordinary they were among people, how mundane their lives were, in love, they were always rich.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
