JUNE
Lily’s backpack exploded across the kitchen table like a glitter bomb of construction paper, pipe cleaners, and slightly sticky glue sticks. She was working on a “family roots” project for her summer enrichment class, which was somehow both adorable and emotionally destabilizing.
“Can I use this picture of Iris?” she asked, holding up a faded photo with peanut butter on the corner.
I nodded, gently rescuing it. “Let’s wipe that off first.”
She grinned, completely unbothered.
“Are you going to include Harper and Willa?”
“Duh. They’re rootsandbranches.”
I smiled. “What about your dad?”
Lily hesitated. “He’s kind of a weed.”
I laughed. “You don’t have to include him if you don’t want to.”
She went back to her gluing. “I want to make a new kind of family tree. One with people who actually help it grow.”
I stared at her for a long second. “That’s really beautiful, Lily.”
She shrugged. “It’s just true.”
We spent the morning cutting out leaves and taping down old photos. I found one of me from college—wide-eyed, paint-stained, wearing jeans with holes that weren’t there to be cute.It felt like looking at a different person. A version of me who still believed she had time to want something more than what was expected.
I tucked it into the tree near Lily’s.
Grant cameby around noon with a box of fresh produce and a container of scones.
“Are these a peace offering?” I asked.
“No,” he said, brushing flour off his shirt. “They’re an experiment. You’re the control group.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re testing baked goods on me?”
“Only the good ones.”
He followed me into the kitchen, eyes scanning the table.
“School project?”
“Family roots,” I said. “She made me a branch.”
He nodded. “That sounds right.”
Lily ran over and wrapped her arms around his waist like she’d known him for years.
“You’re in the tree too,” she said.
His eyebrows lifted. “I am?”
“You’re the helper branch.”
He looked at me, a little stunned.
I smiled. “She’s not wrong.”
