It was Twin Day at Mikey’s elementary school—a day meant for fun, laughter, and matching outfits. Kids ran through the hallways in coordinated clothes, proudly showing off their “twins” for the day: best friends, siblings, even teachers getting in on the fun.

And then there was Mikey.

Mikey showed up with his best friend, Nehemiah. The two of them were dressed alike from head to toe: same shirts, same pants, same grins stretched wide across their faces. They stood proudly next to each other for a photo, arms slung around one another’s shoulders.

Someone—maybe a teacher, maybe a curious parent—asked Mikey what made them different.

Now, from the outside, it was clear that Mikey and Nehemiah didn’t look the same. Nehemiah is Black. Mikey is white. Nehemiah is taller, older by a few months. Their hairstyles, their voices, their family backgrounds—none of it matched.

But Mikey just shrugged, smiled, and gave the most honest answer a child could give.

“Nothing,” he said. “He’s just bigger.”

That was it. No hesitation. No confusion. No overthinking.

Just bigger.

In a world where adults struggle with labels, divisions, and finding common ground, here was a six-year-old boy who cut straight through the noise. To Mikey, Nehemiah wasn’t different. He was his twin. His buddy. His equal. His friend.

And in those three simple words, Mikey reminded all of us of something deeply powerful: differences don’t matter unless we’re taught to see them.

Maybe we could all stand to see the world a little more like Mikey does.

After all… he’s not wrong.

Nehemiah is just bigger. ❤️