This year the Odhner mountain of gifts was more like a pitcher's mound. With four of our kids moving or changing jobs in the past few months, not to mention an extravagant wedding, it made sense to moderate our collective generosity. Thoughtfulness edged out quantity, which showed up in beeswax candles from Berlin, books to while away the post Christmas lull, and Maori necklaces from New Zealand. 

In the absence of a flood of fresh presents I made a conscious effort to be mindful of old ones. Hand knitted fingerless gloves that admittedly need darning. Wine glasses etched by our daughter, reserved for special occasions. Framed pictures on the walls that have gathered a line of dust on the rim.  Although the tags are tossed, those kind gestures are still as genuine an expression of affection as they were when they were wrapped in red paper a year ago. Or four. 

Relationships are as much a reservoir of past kindness as they are a stage for new ones. Yet familiarity can cloak their preciousness, like the smile that greets me each day if I watch for it, and dissipates with the morning frost if I look away.