I remember a window of pristine light, of something so clear and bright that it shines out upon the darker moments of my early childhood as well as the shadows that formed later. I use it as a touchstone to help me recalibrate when I find myself sinking underwater.

When I need to, I slip through this window once more to hear my grandmother’s voice and see the love in her eyes as she smiles at me. I feel the silky green grass under my feet, and the sun warming my darkened skin as I sit on the front steps and watch the hummingbirds kiss the gladioli in my grandfather’s garden, a parapet of mountains touching the sky in the background.

I lie in bed and watch lightning illuminate the trees outside with a silver glow in the darkness, and I revel in the power of the storm as thunder rumbles and crashes all around. When it’s over, crickets gently sing me to sleep.

I look at the faces in my grandparents’ photo albums—aunts, uncles, cousins, my father as a young Marine, the frowning woman behind the child, the bushy mustache and spectacles that my Irish immigrant great-great-grandfather wore over 120 years ago.

I taste watermelon, fried chicken, sweet corn, and sugar snap peas. I drink sweet tea and Mountain Dew, listening to my favorite bands on the radio while driving around with my friends. We go to movies. We go on dates. We laugh. We dance. We don’t know that someday we will struggle to make ends meet, we will face tremendous challenges, and sometimes we will lose.

But through this shining window of time, I am always cradled in love, and every day is full of beauty and wonder.