At our annual family reunion, it wasn’t the barbecue or the backyard games that stirred conversation—it was Tom, my brother-in-law, who always made sure his presence eclipsed everyone else’s. That year, he arrived fashionably late in a roaring red Ferrari, wearing designer sunglasses and a self-satisfied smirk that could probably be seen from space.
Family and neighbors swarmed the driveway like it was a movie premiere. Tom popped out of the car and immediately launched into a monologue about the horsepower, the Italian leather, and the six-figure price tag. It was all very… Tom.
Meanwhile, David—my husband—stood quietly off to the side, holding a plate of food and chatting with my dad about school district reforms. David teaches high school science and loves it, though he rarely brags about the kind of success you can’t park in a driveway.
Later that evening, over dinner beneath twinkling patio lights, David began telling a beautiful story about one of his students who’d faced homelessness and still managed to graduate with honors. The whole table fell silent, moved by his compassion.
