The songs of Christmas are familiar. There are the ones that we sing in the Tableaux every year. The feelings that come pouring out of hiding when we invite them are as sweet as truffles, and as bright as the lights on the tree. Even if I have not sung them for eleven and a half months, the words come effortlessly. 

The ornaments come out of hibernation too. The girls and I rejoiced over the beaded stars, and tiny Santas that have grown precious over the decades. Each year we add a few to the collection, and others are broken beyond repair.

Right now my daughters are sorting through the button collection, to find little bells and snowmen to turn into earrings. This is their first Christmas with extra holes. They don't want to have ordinary lobes. 

Relationships too are a medley of familiar and fresh. I have some thoughts about what my family would enjoy this holiday. Matching pajamas are a standby. The fabric this time has the Grinch scowling, with his dog Max. There will be snowflakes on the windows, ones that hold secret names in their lacy curves. They go up every December, and down in January. 

But there are surprises too. Like when Chara took her dad to New York City for the day. He was not expecting that. Or when Lukas brought Zack his favorite burger from California on the red eye in his back pack. It was only a little squished. The reaction was priceless.  

Some things are new. Others are old. What a blessing to have both.