When I was little, nothing infuriated me when I was already upset like my older brother. Whenever he saw me frowning, crying, or pouting, he would grin at me and say, "Don't smile!"
I always tried, but no matter what I did, my traitorous lips would turn upward and for a brief second a smile crept onto my face--always followed by me yelling at my brother to leave me alone.
But he had already succeeded. My foul mood was broken by his simple statement. My anger at my brother never lasted long; really it was born from a desire to hold onto whatever had been bothering me, rather than let it go, as I should.
After my brother's smile trick, though, I had to let it go. Because his trick was more than a brother teasing a sister. His trick was a brother's love for his sister, because he didn't like to see me sad or upset.
Now that I'm older, I sometimes still hear him when things get tough. I see his smiling face as he taunts, "Don't smile."
But I do.