June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

Today I stuck around a little longer. I told Theo I was keeping my promise… I’m taking care of June. Our princess is safe. After I said the words, I swore I felt the wind pick up just a little. Almost as if he heard me. Almost as if he was saying, “I know you are, Luigi.” Was that you, Theo?

Thirty years ago, I was a terrified six-year-old boy who had just lost his whole world. I was curled up on my bedroom floor, hiding under the bed with a toy elephant as my only comfort. Now, I’m sitting on the bedroom floor of my forever home while my own six-year-old boy, my precocious daughter, and my Junebug have a tickle fight down the hallway, their giggles and squeals the only comfort I’ll ever need again. I sigh contentedly. Where has the time gone? I hope to read through all of those index cards one day, fifty years from now, and know exactly where the time went. And I’ll smile. I’ll laugh. I’ll cry. I’ll be really damn proud of the life I lived and grateful for all the little moments that created it.

“I’m serious. Age doesn’t change anything.” With her chin propped against my arm, she glances up at me with big, glittering eyes. “You’ll still be Brant and I’ll still be June.” Her words steal my breath for a moment. Swallowing, I stroke her hair back with my hand, then place a kiss on the top of her head. “Yeah,” I murmur. “You’re right.”

And as June squeezes my hand beneath the pile of children and sends me a love-laced smile, her eyes twinkling blue and brilliant, I realize that I no longer fear my lasts. Because I know— Every last will be with them.