My six-year-old nephew reached my porch dragging one swollen leg across seven blocks of hot pavement while his three-year-old sister clung to the back of his shirt. He was dusty, shaking, and trying not to cry. The first thing he said was, “Aunt Tessa, June is hungry.” The second thing he said made me drop my keys.

To celebrate Bodie’s seventh birthday and his official entry into first grade, we decided to build a permanent memorial to his courage in my backyard.

We called it Bodie’s Garden.

On a bright Saturday in June, Marcus—the locksmith who had become a close, wonderful family friend—came over with a truckload of rich soil, wooden garden timbers, and dozens of flowering plants.

Together, we built a large, raised garden bed near the oak tree.

Bodie wore a tiny pair of gardening gloves and held a small shovel, helping Marcus lay the cedar timbers, while June used a bright red watering can to water the soil.

"What are we planting, Aunt Tessa?" Bodie asked, wiping a smudge of dirt from his nose.

"Sunflowers," I smiled, opening a packet of large, dark seeds. "Because sunflowers are tough, Bodie. They grow tall, their roots grow deep into the earth, and no matter how hard the storm blows, they always turn their faces toward the light."

Bodie looked at the small black seed in his palm, holding it with care.

"Like me?" he asked innocently.

"Just like you, sweetie," I said, dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around him. "You are the strongest sunflower in this whole garden."

We planted twenty seeds in a neat row along the wooden border.

That evening, we held a large backyard barbecue. Marcus grilled burgers and chicken, Marlene baked a massive chocolate birthday cake shaped like a soccer ball, and several neighbors from Oak Street came over with presents and warm wishes.

When it was time to blow out the candles, Bodie stood on a wooden chair at the picnic table, surrounded by the people who loved him most in the world.

"Make a wish, Bodie!" June cheered, clapping her hands.

Bodie looked around the sunlit backyard—at his mother who was smiling and whole, at his little sister who was safe and fed, at Marcus who was cheering, and at me, holding his hand.

He didn't close his eyes. He smiled a huge, beautiful, radiant smile and blew out all seven candles in one strong breath.

"What did you wish for, buddy?" Marcus asked, tossing him a playful high-five.