As I stirred a can of paint, the neighbor's boy road his bike up the driveway. Over the years he often wandered over from his house next door to talk to me while I worked in the yard. His whole family was bilingual, but Alberto was the least shy to use his English.
"What'cha doin?" he asked.
"I'm painting the house," I answered as I watched a car pull into his driveway. "Looks like you've got company."
He grinned until his dimple showed. "It's my birthday and we're having a party."
"You must be about ten years old now. Are you getting a bunch of presents?"
"I don't get presents for my birthday. But I get cake!" he answered, never losing his grin.
I thought for a moment and then dipped my brush in the paint and climbed up the ladder to paint a large "H" on the house.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Alberto.
"I'm making you a card," I said.
He stood holding his bike until I finished painting "Happy Birthday Alberto" in large letters on the side of the house. His wide eyes sparkled as he dropped the bike and ran across the lawn to his house. Mom, dad, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings all came out to wave at me and smile at the big birthday greeting.
In a world filled with material things that are taken for granted, and language and cultural differences that create barriers, the gift of their smiles was the best gift I ever received. It renewed my belief in the importance of small gestures. It reminded me of the universal language we share in our smiles.
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