From our stories of kindness: Sometimes we think happiness comes from having more things, but real happiness comes from remembering the good qualities that already live inside us—our kindness, our creativity, and our courage to do what’s right.
Tez kicked a pebble down the sidewalk as he walked home from school. His backpack felt heavy, but not because of books. It was heavy with the weight of watching his best friend Jinx show off his brand-new gaming console at lunch, while Tez had to pretend he wasn’t jealous.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered to himself. “Why does Jinx get everything cool, and I get nothing?”
Tez was eight years old and quieter than most of the kids in his class. He didn’t have the newest clothes or the flashiest shoes. His family didn’t go on fancy vacations. Sometimes, that made Tez feel invisible. Tez often sat at the edge of the group, watching and wishing.
At home, Tez found his grandmother in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup that filled the house with warm, savory smells.
“Perfect timing, my dear,” she said with a warm smile. “I need strong arms to help me carry a box down from the attic. Spring cleaning, you know.”
Tez sighed but followed her upstairs. The attic was dusty and filled with old furniture covered in white sheets. Tez spotted something glinting in the corner.
“What’s that, Grandma?” he asked, pointing to what looked like a large mirror.
“Ah, that old thing. It’s been in our family for generations. My grandmother said it had special qualities, though I was never quite sure what she meant.”
It was beautiful—the frame was carved with intricate patterns of vines and flowers, though it was tarnished with age. The glass itself seemed to shimmer slightly, even in the dim attic light.
“Can I keep it in my room?” Tez asked.
“I suppose so,” his grandmother said thoughtfully. “But handle it with care. Some things are more precious than they appear.”
That evening, after they’d carried the mirror to his bedroom and propped it against the wall, Tez stood alone in front of it. At first, he saw exactly what he expected—his own reflection looking back at him. But then something extraordinary happened.
The image began to glow softly, and instead of just seeing his face, Tez saw himself as he truly was. He saw the gentle way he’d helped a bird with a broken wing last summer, carefully nursing it back to health. He saw his hands drawing colorful pictures that made his little sister laugh. He saw himself standing up to Tommy Peterson when Tommy was picking on a kindergartner.
In the mirror, these moments made him shine with a warm, golden light. Tez gasped and stepped back, but the beautiful vision faded, leaving just his regular reflection staring back with wide, amazed eyes.
The next day at school, Jinx was showing off again—this time it was new sneakers that lit up when he walked.
“Check these out! They are the limited edition ones,” Jinx said, dancing around to make the lights blink, not noticing Tez’s expression.
Tez felt that familiar twist in his stomach. Why couldn’t his family afford things like that? Why did Jinx get everything while Tez got nothing?
That night, when he looked in the mirror, something was different. His reflection appeared cloudy and dim. He could barely make out his face through what looked like gray fog swirling across the glass.
“That’s weird,” he whispered, but he was too tired to think about it much.
Over the next few weeks, things got worse. Tez found himself wanting more and more—not just Jinx’s sneakers and gaming console, but every cool thing he saw other kids with. The wanting felt like a hungry monster in his chest that was never satisfied.
He stopped helping the younger kids who sometimes asked him to reach things from high shelves. He quit drawing because his colored pencils seemed shabby compared to Jinx’s new art set. When his sister asked him to play with her, he snapped that he was too busy thinking about important things.
Each night, his reflection in the mirror grew cloudier and more distorted. Sometimes he could barely see himself at all.
The worst part was how he started treating Jinx. Instead of enjoying their friendship, Tez became cold and distant. When Jinx invited him over to game on the new console, Tez made excuses. When Jinx asked if he was okay, Tez just grunted and looked away. The jealousy was eating him up inside, but he couldn’t seem to stop it.
Then came the day that changed everything.
Tez knew his family was going through a tight month—he’d overheard his parents talking quietly about bills at the kitchen table.
An idea crept into his mind. A terrible, sneaky idea.
“Mom, Dad,” he said that evening, “I need money for a school project. It’s really important. We have to buy supplies for a presentation, and if I don’t have them, I’ll get a bad grade.”
The lie slipped out so easily that it scared him.
His parents exchanged a worried look. “How much do you need, sweetie?” his mother asked.
“Twenty dollars,” Tez said, hating himself even as the words left his mouth.
His father sighed. “That’s a lot right now, but if it’s for school…” He reached for his wallet.
The next morning, his grandmother knocked on his bedroom door. “I heard about your school project,” she said kindly. “I’d love to help! We could work on it together this weekend.”
The guilt hit Tez like a punch to the stomach. His grandmother’s eager, loving face made everything worse. She wanted to help with a project that didn’t even exist, because he was a liar.
That night, Tez stood in front of the mirror with the twenty-dollar bill crumpled in his hand. When he looked at his reflection, he saw nothing at all—just swirling gray mist where his face should be. It was as if he’d disappeared completely.
He sank heavily onto his bed and put his head in his hands as tears blurred his vision.
“Tez?” His grandmother’s gentle voice came from the doorway. “What’s wrong, dear one?”
Tez told her everything. The lie about the project, his jealousy of Jinx, how angry he’d been about not having nice things, how he’d stopped being kind to people because he was so focused on what he didn’t have.
His grandmother sat beside him and pulled him into a warm hug. “Look in the mirror, Tez,” she said softly.
“I can’t,” he moaned, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “There’s nothing there. I’ve lost myself completely.”
“The mirror shows your heart,” she explained gently. When we get too attached to wanting things, when we chase things that don’t really matter, we forget who we are.
“But I want to be good again,” Tez whispered. “I want to be the person I was before.”
“You still are that person,” his grandmother said. “Kindness, creativity, courage—they’re all still inside you. You just have to choose to let them shine again.”
The next morning, Tez did the hardest thing he’d ever done. He found his parents at breakfast and placed the twenty-dollar bill on the table.
“I lied to you,” he said, his voice shaking. “There’s no school project. I wanted money to buy something for myself, and I lied to get it. I’m really, really sorry.”
His parents were quiet for a long moment. Then his father reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you for telling us the truth,” he said. “That took real courage.”
At school, Tez found Jinx by his locker. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad friend,” he said. “I was jealous of your cool stuff, and I let that make me mean. Can you forgive me?”
Jinx looked relieved. “I’m just glad you’re back to being you! Want to hang out after school?”
That afternoon, instead of going to Jinx’s house, Tez went to find his little sister. “Want to see something cool?” he asked her.
He’d been looking at the recycling bin that morning and had an idea. Using empty cereal boxes, paper towel tubes, and tape, he began building. He created a fantastic castle with towers and a working drawbridge.
“It’s beautiful!” his sister gasped. “Can you teach me how to make one?”
As they worked together, Tez felt something he’d forgotten—the pure joy of creating something with his own hands. It didn’t matter that it was made from things his family was going to throw away. It was his invention, made with his imagination, and it was wonderful.
The next day at lunch, instead of sitting with his usual friends, Tez noticed a first-grader struggling with a book at a corner table. The little boy looked frustrated and sad.
“Need some help?” Tez asked, sitting down beside him.
For the next twenty minutes, they read together. Tez helped with the hard words, and soon the little boy was giggling at the funny story. Other young kids started joining them, and before he knew it, Tez had started an unofficial reading club.
But the hardest thing was still to come.
Tez had been hiding something at school. There was a kid in his class named Marcus who didn’t have many friends. Some of the other kids had started calling him names and excluding him from games. Tez had seen it happening but had been too scared to say anything, afraid it might make him unpopular too.
On Friday, he watched Tommy Peterson knock Marcus’s lunch tray out of his hands, causing him to spill food all over the floor while the other kids laughed. Marcus looked like he was about to cry.
Tez’s heart pounded, but he knew what he had to do.
“Mrs. Rodriguez,” he said, approaching his teacher after class. “I need to tell you about something that’s been happening to Marcus. Some kids have been bullying him, and I should have spoken up before now.”
It was scary to tell the truth, but as soon as he did, Tez felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
That evening, Tez stood in front of the mirror in his room. Slowly, his reflection began to appear through the mist. At first it was faint, but as he watched, it grew clearer and brighter.
He saw himself again—really saw himself. The kindness in his eyes when he helped the first-grader read. The creative spark that had built a castle. The courage it had taken to tell the truth about Marcus, even when he was afraid.
The golden glow was back, warmer and brighter than ever.
“Grandma was right,” he whispered to his reflection. “The magic was never in the mirror. It was in remembering who I really am.”
His reflection smiled back at him, and Tez felt complete again.
The next week, Jinx came over to Tez’s house for the first time in months. When he saw the amazing inventions Tez had been building from recycled materials, his eyes went wide.
“This is so cool!” Jinx said, examining a robot made from tin cans and bottle caps. “I want to make one. Will you show me how to get started?”
Tez grinned. “Sure! But you have to promise to help me with the reading club at lunch.”
“Deal,” Jinx said, and they shook hands.
That night, Tez looked in the mirror one more time. His reflection was clear and bright, showing not just his face, but the truth of who he was—a kind, creative, courageous boy who had everything he needed right inside his own heart.
And for the first time in weeks, that was enough.
The End
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