The First Family Smile — The happy feeling in Tavi’s chest was too big for his striped shirt. Read the full story →
The happy feeling in Tavi’s chest was too big for his striped shirt. It had started with a warm paper notice from school, smelling faintly of ink and lunchbox apples: his poem had been chosen for the town radio. He squeezed his father’s pant leg, but the joy kept fizzing like soda.
By the sofa, the tall houseplant rustled though no window was open. “Share it,” whispered the leaves, soft as rain on a roof. Tavi blinked. His mother leaned closer, his sister stopped swinging her braid, and his father’s hand rested steady on his shoulder. Tavi read the poem aloud. The room seemed to glow around the couch cushions and the round button on the armrest.
Ever since that afternoon, when joy grows too large for one heart, families stand close and let one smile travel from face to face. Next time you see four people gathered together, see if you can spot where the fizzing joy landed first.
