Ari and the rainbow inside and other stories

Ari and the rainbow inside.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, painting golden lines across Ari’s room. Tiny specks of dust floated in the light like glitter. Ari blinked awake, stretched his arms high, and smiled. “It’s a new day,” he whispered, feeling a warm wave of happiness wrap around him.

The air smelled like pancakes—sweet, buttery, and soft. From the kitchen came the sound of laughter and the soft rhythm of a song. Mom was humming while flipping pancakes, her voice mixing with the sound of sizzling batter. Ari giggled and joined in, making up silly words to the tune.

Everything felt light and easy. The day glowed with promise. This is what happiness feels like, Ari thought.

But later that day, something changed!

Ari’s little cousin, Timi, came running into his room, her tiny feet pattering against the floor. “What are you doing, Ari?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I’m working on my drawing,” Ari said proudly, showing her the bright colors of his rainbow and the little stars he had spent all week perfecting.

Before he could say more, Timi reached for the paper. “Wait—!” Ari shouted.

But it was too late. The paper tore right down the middle.

Ari froze. His chest felt tight, his face hot. The warm morning glow turned into something sharp and heavy. “I told you not to touch my things!” Ari yelled, voice shaking.

Timi’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped the paper and ran away, sobbing.

Ari stood still. His hands trembled. Anger thumped in his chest like a drum he couldn’t silent. Why did I shout like that? he thought. The anger didn’t feel good, it felt messy and big, like a storm cloud in his heart.

Then, he remembered what Dad once said:

“Breathe before your words fly away.”

Ari closed his eyes. Inhale... one, two, three. Exhale... one, two, three.

When he found Timi hiding behind the couch, her cheeks were wet with tears. Ari knelt beside her. “I’m sorry I shouted,” he said softly. “I was upset that my drawing tore. But I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Timi sniffled. “I’m sorry I tore it.”

Ari smiled gently. “It’s okay. Maybe we can make another one together.”

The anger cloud began to fade. Forgiveness made the air lighter again.

That afternoon at school, Ari wanted to tell a funny story to his best friend, Zara. He had been saving it all morning, it was about his dad burning toast and trying to hide it from Mom.

But when Ari ran up to Zara, she was already playing with someone else. “Hey, Zara!” Ari called. She didn’t look up.

Ari stood still, his smile slowly fading. He walked to a bench and sat down. The laughter of other kids filled the playground like music he couldn’t dance to.

He rested his chin on his hands. Why didn’t she want to play with me? he wondered. His chest ached a little.

A teacher noticed and came over. “You look sad today, Ari,” she said kindly.

Ari shrugged. “Zara didn’t want to play with me.”

The teacher nodded. “That must feel lonely. But you know, feelings come and go like clouds. Maybe she’ll join you later.”

Ari looked up at the sky. Some clouds were grey, but others were glowing white and golden at the edges. It made sense now, sadness isn’t forever.

When the school bell rang, Zara ran up and smiled. “Hey, want to play tag?” Ari’s face brightened instantly. “Sure!”

And just like that, the grey cloud floated away.

After school, Dad had a surprise.

“Park time!” he said with a grin.

Ari’s eyes widened. The park had a huge twisty slide, taller than their house. Kids were zooming down it, screaming and laughing like wild birds.

Ari’s stomach flipped. “It looks... fun? But scary. What if I fall?”

Dad knelt beside him. “That’s fear talking,” he said. “It’s okay to be scared. Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared, it means you try anyway.”

Ari took a deep breath. His legs felt wobbly as he climbed the tall ladder. The wind whooshed past his ears, and for a second, he almost climbed back down.

But then he whispered, “Brave means doing it anyway.” And — whoosh! — down he went!

The wind rushed…