June, Reimagined

by Rebekah Crane

“I can give you a fancy camera,” Ms. Flores once said to June. “But no matter how good the equipment, it still only takes pictures. It can’t see. Only you can do that. That’s the job of an artist.”

It felt unfair that no matter how big the life, we all reduce to the same small pile of ash.

“I’m sorry” was never on time. It was always too late. Those two words haunted June.

“Happily ever after never happens when people do what they’re supposed to do, love. It’s when they deviate that the plot really gets interesting.”

“Avoidance builds tension, but at some point, to satisfy the reader, a character must make a choice and deal with the consequences.”

“There’s as much value in the word ‘no’ as there is in the word ‘yes.’ Maybe even more, because we, as women, so rarely say no.”

She had nowhere to go. Who cared if the whole wide world was available when she had no purpose in it?

“Turns out, saying no sucks,” she said to Eva. “That’s why so many people won’t say it. They’d rather spare themselves the pain than walk through it to something better.”

“Don’t be naive. We’re all characters, June. If something’s not working, it’s time to reimagine yourself.

Sometimes, we get so stuck in who we think we are, we forget to take in our lives from another view. You aren’t a reflection, June, like a flat mirror. You are a three-dimensional person. You’ve just gotten used to seeing only one side of yourself.”

“You want absolution,” Matt said, pointing up. “I hear he’s good at that.” “How do I start?” “Jesus always liked a good story, though he tended to telegraph the moral, so his endings were fairly predictable.” June smiled. “Only you would critique Jesus.” Matt nudged her. “How about this for a start?” Then he whispered, “Confession time . . .” June looked at Jesus above her. She took a breath. And started at the beginning.

Being perfect doesn’t make a life worth honoring. Being honest does.