People don’t believe me when I say it.
But I haven’t been sick—not once—in 35 years.
No fevers.
No flus.
Not even a cold.
They say I must have good genes. Or that I’m just lucky.
But I know better.
It started the year my mother died.
I was 27. Tired. Grieving. And my body felt like it was breaking from the inside out.
One morning, I woke up dizzy. My heart raced just from standing up.
I sat on the floor and cried. Not from sadness—but from fear.
Because I realized something:
I was too young to feel this old.
That same week, I found a notebook she left behind.
Tucked inside the pages of her old cookbooks.
In it, a recipe. No title. Just five ingredients, written in her careful script:
– 50 grams of ginger
– 1 orange
– 1 lemon
– 1 teaspoon turmeric
– 200 ml water
No instructions. No story. Just the ingredients.
But I remembered her making something bright and golden every morning when I was a child.
She used to call it “fire in the belly.”
And I swear, she never got sick either.
So I made it.
Boiled the water.
Grated the ginger.
Juiced the lemon and orange.
Stirred in the turmeric until it glowed like the sun.
I drank it hot.
It burned going down.
But something inside me woke up.
And I’ve made it every single morning since.
That was 35 years ago.
My vision? Clear.
My mind? Sharper now at 62 than it was at 30.
My blood pressure? Textbook perfect.
Doctors ask me what supplements I take.
I tell them, “My mama’s tea.”
It became more than a recipe.
It became my ritual. My reset.
My proof that nature knows what we’ve forgotten.
Ginger to fight inflammation.
Turmeric to protect the heart.
Citrus for the immune system.
Heat to remind your body it’s alive.
When my daughter got married, I made a big batch for the guests.
Some rolled their eyes. But the next day, they were all asking for the recipe.
Now my grandchildren drink it, too.
We call it “Sunshine Tea.”
Because that’s what it feels like—drinking the morning.
I’ll never forget the first week I started drinking it.
I didn’t expect much.
I had been on and off antibiotics for sinus infections. Couldn’t sleep well. And always felt this dull, foggy ache in my head.
But by day four, something shifted.
I woke up before my alarm.
No pressure behind my eyes.
No ache in my joints.
Just… stillness. Energy. Calm.
It felt like someone had opened a window in my body.
By the second week, my cravings changed.
I wanted greens instead of chips. Water instead of soda.
My body started choosing what felt good—like it finally trusted me again.
That’s when I knew. This wasn’t a placebo.
This was healing.
I started making extra batches and giving them to friends.
Lana, my neighbor across the street, was always sniffling in the mornings. She blamed allergies.
I handed her a warm mason jar and said, “Try this for five days. Just humor me.”
She rolled her eyes but took it.
Two days later, she came back smiling, holding her mug like it was gold.
“What is this magic?” she asked. “My sinuses are clear. My head’s not heavy. And I haven’t needed coffee.”
I told her, “It’s not magic. It’s roots and fruit and love.”
We laughed, but I meant it.
I started sharing the recipe with anyone who asked.
My cousin Tomas, who battled with high blood pressure, now makes it for his wife every morning.
She says his temper softened with his pressure. “It’s like I got my sweet Tomas back.”
My friend Rina started drinking it when her joints began to swell from arthritis.
She says it doesn’t cure everything—but the mornings hurt less. She can garden again.
Even my skeptical brother Arturo came around.
He always said, “If it’s not from a pharmacy, it’s not real medicine.”
Until he got a bad flu one winter.
I dropped off a batch at his porch and said, “Don’t argue. Just drink.”
He called three days later. “I don’t know what’s in that stuff, but I feel like I skipped the flu.”
That’s when I laughed.
Because sometimes people need proof.
And sometimes, proof comes in a steaming mug.
I remember one morning, about ten years ago, I forgot to make the tea.
I was rushing. Had a flat tire. Everything was off.
By noon, I had a headache.
By evening, I felt bloated and tired.
It was like my body was reminding me, “Hey—you forgot our morning promise.”
I never skipped again.
It’s not superstition. It’s respect.
My body shows up for me every day.
This is how I show up for it.
People ask if I ever get bored of it.
Drinking the same thing every day?
But it’s not just a drink.
It’s a quiet moment with myself.
A deep breath before the world begins.
A reminder of my mother’s hands squeezing lemons at the kitchen sink.
It’s warmth in my chest.
A clear head.
A grateful heart.
There was one winter where everyone around me was coughing.
Work, church, the market—people were dropping left and right.
And there I was, in the middle of it all, holding strong.
No sniffles. No sore throat.
People kept saying, “How are you not sick?”
I just smiled and said, “Sunshine tea.”
Some laughed.
But a few pulled out notebooks and asked for the recipe.
Those are the people who stayed healthy the next time something went around.
Here’s how I make it, in case you want to try:
– Boil 200ml water
– Add 50g of fresh grated ginger (not powdered—it’s worth the effort)
– Let simmer for 5–7 minutes
– Remove from heat
– Add juice of 1 fresh lemon and 1 sweet orange
– Stir in 1 teaspoon of ground turmeric
– Optional: a tiny pinch of black pepper (helps activate the turmeric)
– Strain and drink warm, first thing in the morning
You can sweeten it with a little honey if you want, but I like the bite.
It wakes me up better than coffee ever did.
I know there’s a lot of advice out there.
Superfoods. Cleanses. Supplements.
But this?
This is real.
It’s ancient.
It’s made of things you can pronounce.
And it’s worked for me—for thirty-five years and counting.
I’ve watched this tea walk with me through every stage of life.
Through grief, when I needed comfort.
Through stress, when I needed grounding.
Through winter, when I needed strength.
Through aging, when I needed clarity.
It’s not a cure-all.
But it’s a keeper.
A healer.
A companion.
I’m 62 now. My bones are strong.
My eyes still read fine print.
My doctor says my labs look “boring,” which is exactly what you want after sixty.
I thank this little ritual.
And the mother who passed it down.
I used to think wellness had to be expensive. Or complicated.
But now I know better.
Healing lives in the small things we repeat with love.
If this story touched you, I hope you try it.
Not just once.
But for a week. Maybe two.
Give your body the same grace you give everyone else.
Let the roots remind you of what’s possible.
Let the citrus bring the light back in.
And if it helps you—share it.
Because someone out there is waiting for something this simple to change their life.
Please like and share this post with someone you love. 🌿💛
Let’s keep this gift from our mothers, and their mothers, alive.
