Chapter 19 - June Chooses Her Place
June’s fifth birthday took place in a public park near our Virginia home.
No estate.
No chandelier.
No mandatory guest list.
Children ran between picnic tables.
My father grilled hamburgers badly.
My mother corrected him.
General Carter attended after retirement and let June decorate her with stickers.
Wesley arrived carrying a bicycle helmet and no instructions for how the party should proceed.
Arthur sent a card.
He did not attend because June had met him only twice under structured conditions.
Access grew at the pace of trust.
After cake, June opened a small box from my parents.
Inside was a child-sized compass.
My father knelt beside her.
“This helps you know which direction you are going.”
June looked at him.
“Does it tell me where my place is?”
The question silenced every adult nearby.
She had heard pieces of the collar story.
Not from gossip.
From a child therapist who helped us explain why certain relatives were absent.
My father glanced toward me.
I nodded.
He answered.
“No.”
“A compass tells you where you are.”
“You decide where you belong.”
June smiled.
She carried the compass around the park for the rest of the afternoon.
That evening, she found the gold bell inside my desk.
“Was this mine?”
“It was attached to something someone tried to give you.”
“Did I like it?”
“You were too little to choose.”
She shook it once.
“Do I get to choose now?”
“Yes.”
June considered the bell.
Then she tied it to the collar of her stuffed dog.
“Biscuit likes bells.”
May you like
The dog had no opinion.
June had enough for both of them.
