Chapter 12 - June Stopped Apologizing For Existing
The most visible change in June was small.
She stopped saying sorry all the time.
Before, every visit:
“Sorry.”
If she dropped a pencil.
“Sorry.”
If she asked for water.
“Sorry.”
If an adult needed to walk around her.
“Sorry.”
Helen had assumed it was shyness.
After Celeste left, it slowly disappeared.
One afternoon June was doing homework at a table in the small property-management office where Helen now worked.
I stopped by.
June knocked over a cup of pencils.
They scattered everywhere.
She froze.
For one second, I saw the old fear.
Then Helen said casually:
“Pick them up, honey.”
June did.
No apology.
No tears.
No looking toward the door to see who might be angry.
I had to look away.
Helen noticed.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You look weird.”
I laughed.
“June didn’t say sorry.”
Helen watched her daughter.
Then understood.
Her eyes filled.
Healing sometimes arrives so quietly nobody applauds.
A child spills pencils.
May you like
Nothing bad happens.
And a nervous system begins learning a new rule.
