Chapter 10 - The Real Table
Two months later.
Early autumn had arrived in Ohio, painting the trees in brilliant shades of gold, amber, and deep crimson.
Our backyard was filled with laughter, the smell of grilled burgers, and the bright, happy sounds of a real family celebration.
It was June’s eighth birthday.
We hadn't rented a function hall this year. There were no beige carpets, no fluorescent lights, and no paper plates stacked up like walls in dark side rooms.
A long wooden picnic table sat in the middle of our sun-drenched lawn, covered in a bright yellow tablecloth, flower centerpieces, and handmade birthday banners created by Amber and Mason.
Aunt Brenda was near the grill, laughing with Todd and Greg’s father, Steve, who had officially finalized his divorce from Janet a month prior. Steve looked lighter, happier, and spent his weekends helping Mason build a wooden workbench in our garage.
Amber sat at the head of the table, carefully placing eight colorful candles on a homemade strawberry sheet cake.
“Mason! Get the lighter!” Amber called out, laughing as Mason tried to steal a lick of frosting from the edge of the pan.
“I’m on it!” Mason yelled, trotting over with a box of matches.
I stood on the back porch, holding a tray of ice cream cups, watching my family.
Greg walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” Greg asked softly, kissing my cheek.
“I’m thinking about how far we’ve come,” I smiled, looking out at the lawn. “Look at them, Greg.”
June came running across the grass, wearing a bright purple birthday dress with tiny white flowers near the hem—a dress she had chosen herself. Her hair was flying in the wind, her face radiant with pure, unfiltered joy.
She slid into the middle seat at the long wooden table—right between Amber and Mason.
Nobody told her to move. Nobody pushed her toward a side room. Nobody measured her bloodline.
Amber placed a party hat on June’s head, while Mason handed her the biggest slice of strawberry cake.
Greg and I walked down the porch steps, carrying the ice cream, and joined them at the table. Greg pulled out a chair beside June, resting his hand on her shoulder—not to push her away, but to keep her close.
June looked up at her father, then at me, then at her brother and sister.
“Make a wish, Junie!” Mason cheered, tapping his fork against his cup.
June closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out all eight candles in one single, triumphant breath.
Everyone clapped and cheered.
As the smoke from the candles drifted up into the warm autumn air, June looked at Greg with her big brown eyes, a giant, frosting-covered smile lighting up her face.
“Did your wish come true, Bug?” Greg asked gently, wiping a bit of strawberry frosting from her nose.
June leaned against her father’s arm, her small hand reaching out to grab Amber’s hand on one side and Mason’s on the other.
May you like
“My wish already came true, Daddy,” June beamed, her voice ringing clear and bright across the sunny yard. “I’m sitting at my real table.”
And under the bright blue sky, surrounded by the people who loved her unconditionally, our real family sat together—whole, unbroken, and forever free. 🌟
