A family sits together at their dining room table in the evening. The light is low, painting the room with sunset reds and oranges. There are seven people in total: a father, a mother, two sons, and three daughters. Their meal—a Southern style chicken casserole—is set before them, and they have all started eating. All except for the youngest daughter. She sits with her hands folded in her lap, her head down, not looking at any of her family members. She is wearing a dress that is shaped and decorated like a strawberry. It looks new. No one else is looking at her dress, however. Their eyes are all turned to the oldest son, who has a graduate hat on his head. It is tilted slightly to the left, and the tassel is brushing the top of his shoulder. There is a sign hung across the top of the doorframe behind him that says “great work!” Below it a mezuzah is affixed to the doorpost. His parents are beaming and holding hands. He is smiling too, but his expression has a bit of discomfort behind it. He is leaning away from his brother, who is about to punch him playfully on the arm. His casserole has only been picked at.

The father looks genuinely cheerful, but he still has deep worry lines on his face and bags under his eyes. His maroon rimmed glasses are sliding a bit down his nose, but he can’t push them back up because his hands are clasping his wife’s. He is absently stroking her wedding ring, as if to reassure her, or himself, about something. His tie has been loosened and the top button of his blue dress shirt is undone. His kippah is the only part of his wardrobe that is worn entirely properly. No one else in the family is wearing a head covering. He has picked all the peppers out of his casserole, but he left them next to the rest of the food so it’s hard to see that they’ve been separated. If the mother has noticed she isn’t showing it. Her gaze is firmly locked in the direction of her oldest son, though she actually appears to be looking past him at the good job sign. She smiles in a way she might if she was celebrating a personal accomplishment. Her blouse is perfect; you couldn’t find a single wrinkle on it with a magnifying glass.

The second youngest daughter can only be seen from behind, so her expression is a mystery. She is leaning forward with her chin resting on her right hand. Her left is holding a forkful of casserole below the table. The family’s basset hound looks excited that the food is being shared with him. Her hair is tied in a braid behind her, but it’s a little uneven and has bits poking out in the wrong direction. It looks like she is used to having help, but today she did it on her own. Her older sister, the middle child, is in the process of undoing it. Her food is already finished and her silverware is resting neatly on top of her plate. Her legs are crossed under the table. She is the only female member of the family who isn’t wearing a skirt. She is wearing glasses like her father, but hers are more rectangular and have black rims. There is a yellow 2H pencil tucked behind her left ear.

The second son is wearing a hoodie and a t-shirt with some sort of indecipherable logo on it. His tennis shoes, which can be seen under the table, are a polished white. The look he directs at his brother wouldn’t be best described as envious, but it doesn’t lack an edge of jealousy. He is grinning and his braces are visible. He wears them on both his top and bottom teeth. One of his top teeth on the right is missing. There are pictures on the wall behind the table, and in several of them he is holding a soccer ball. His grin in each of them is consistent with the one he is currently wearing. Not all of them include his braces or his missing tooth.

The pictures hanging on the wall are all family portraits. Most of them have eight people: the seven sitting around the table and one more girl, who looks a little older than the oldest son. In all but the last picture with her in it she is taller than him. Only the rightmost photo is missing her, but the gap in time between it and the last one she is in is larger than the gap between any of the other pictures. In the last picture of her everyone is smiling. She is wearing the same graduation cap that her younger brother wears now.

The rightmost family photo, the one without the oldest girl, is of lower quality than the rest. It was probably taken with a cheap camera, or a cellphone. In it the family is standing outside in front of their house. None of them can be seen clearly, which is partly because of the quality, and partly because their faces aren’t elevated enough to avoid being hidden in shadow. All except for the youngest girl. She is holding her father’s hand and looking up at him. In her other hand she is holding the arm of a stuffed Winnie the Pooh doll. Her expression is at once confused, compassionate, and longing.

There is another picture on the wall, but it is not of the family. It’s a stock photo of a different family, probably the one that came with the frame. In contrast to the previous photo, everyone in this picture is looking directly at the camera and laughing. And yet it can’t be called better. It lacks sincerity, which for all its flaws the phone portrait represents perfectly.

Now it waits to be replaced by the next moment in the family’s story.