Chapter 10 - The Celebration of Light
In June, on a warm, brilliant Saturday afternoon, we held a small gathering in the backyard of Aunt Gwen’s house in Concord to celebrate June’s first birthday.
The garden was filled with blooming yellow roses, green ivy, and white paper lanterns hanging from the old oak tree branches.
There were only twelve people present—Aunt Gwen, a few close friends from my book club, Bethany, and her five-year-old son, Noah, whom she had brought to meet his cousin for the first time.
Wade attended for two hours during the afternoon. He sat quietly on a wooden bench, watching June crawl across the soft grass, helping her hold her small plastic bubble wand. There was a peaceful, quiet distance between us—a respectful boundary built on hard lessons and mutual acceptance of our new reality.
At 3:00 PM, Aunt Gwen brought out the cake.
It was a beautiful, two-tiered vanilla cake with ivory frosting, delicate yellow sugar flowers, and a small wooden cake topper shaped like a summer sun.
Written across the middle in elegant, gold icing were the words: HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY, JUNE.
We gathered around the picnic table under the oak tree. Bethany stood beside me, holding her son's hand, a soft, beautiful smile resting on her face as she looked at her niece.
"Make a wish for her, Maren," Gwen said warmly, holding out the wooden match to light the single golden candle at the center of the cake.
I looked down at my daughter. She was sitting on my hip, wearing a little yellow cotton dress, her dark blue eyes shining with curiosity as she stared at the bright flickering flame. She reached out her small hand, babbling happily, completely untethered from the ghosts of the past, completely secure in the love of the people standing around her.
May you like
I leaned down near her soft, velvet hair and whispered, "Her name is June. And she is going to shine all on her own."
I blew out the candle, and the entire garden erupted into joyful applause, the sound rising up into the warm summer sky, carrying no echo of the past, only the bright, unbroken promise of the future.
