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August 5, 2026
We’ve been stopping by Theo’s gravesite every Saturday night since we returned home. June eventually told me that Theo was her mysterious date for all those years, so we decided to keep up the tradition.
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?
December 24, 2028
Caroline asked me who the woman was in the photograph ornament on the Christmas tree—the ornament June and Theo gave to me when I was a boy. I told Caroline it was her grandma, the woman we named her after. My sweet mother.
She said she was real pretty. And then she said the stuffed elephant in the picture looked a lot like Bubbles :-)
May 5, 2030
I’m so unbelievably happy.
That’s all.
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.
“The pizza just got here.” June stands in the doorway to our bedroom, her dress wrinkled and her hair sticking up from the tickle fight with the kids.
God, she’s perfect.
I nod, watching as she strolls toward me with that same come-hither look in her eyes. She’s holding a paper plate topped with two slices of pizza. “Will you still look at me like that in fifty years when I’m old and wrinkly?” I wonder.
Twirling the skirt of her sundress, she nibbles her bottom lip and crinkles her nose. “Look at you how?”
“That same look you gave me in the treehouse. Like you want to rip off my belt and see what’s hiding inside my pants.”
She sits down beside me, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. “Of course I’ll still look at you like that.”
I grin, taking the plate she hands me. “Liar.”
“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.”
Glancing down at the pizza, I glare at the mushrooms piled onto each piece. Then I hold back a laugh as I return my attention to her. “Mushrooms? We hate mushrooms.”
“I know. They messed up the order.” She sighs. “The kids love them, so I didn’t say anything.”
I scrape them off. “Fuck mushrooms.”
We share a knowing look, tinged with humor, as June echoes softly, “Fuck mushrooms.”
