The first name I can remember wanting to bestow on my future daughter was Lemonade. This was probably around age four or five, maybe at the height of my driveway entrepreneurship. The next name that came into favor was Scheherazade, in elementary school. Scheherazade was the name of my favorite horse at my aunt’s farm. She was a beautiful dapple gray, and I was in love with her, so obviously it made sense for my future child to share her name. Later, I fixated on the name Ava. My aunt was pregnant, and if it was a girl, they were going to call her Ava, and I fell in love with that name alongside them. They ended up having a boy, and Ava ended up becoming massively popular, so it eventually lost its luster for me. The next and final name I fell in love with was June, sometime in high school. And, well, here we are. There’s no grand story of why I love this name so much, or why it’s stuck with me for so long, but there are many smaller reasons: I love that it’s sweet and feminine without being saccharine. I love that it’s simple, everyone knows how to spell it, and everyone is familiar with it, but it’s not that common. I love that it’s a little old-school without sounding too hipster-ish. I love that it works for a little girl as well as a grown-up lady. As an adopted Southerner, I love that it has a light Dixie flair, thanks to June Carter Cash — and that I now have my very own Johnny and June :) I love that John, who loves summer more than anyone I’ve ever met, will always have a little piece of sunshine in his life. And finally,