My daughter hovers beside me while I tear into the cardboard box.

I see the books I ordered while she sees something different.

“Bubbles!” she says.

I hand her lengths of clear, plastic packing material from around my books and she hurries out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

She shuts the door and explosions echo a split second after. Rapid-fire pops while she stomps each one, then returns with a wadded mass of deflated plastic. Her face wears the mask of deep satisfaction.

My daughter knows me well.

She has spent her bounty and spared my ears. Last time I handed her packing materials she ran them to our carpeted living room. Children should be both seen and heard, but there are decibel limits.

Love comes wrapped in many forms. Sometimes it is the way a person knows us and cares enough to take an extra step for us. 

The way they shield us from a cannonade that brings them so much joy.

The unasked courtesy that springs from and strengthens our connection.

Most of us perform these courtesies without regard, without noticing. It is pausing an extra second after a person has crossed the crosswalk in front of us before pulling forward. Or reaching out to a dear friend when something prompts a fond memory the two of you share. It is asking after the day of the customer service agent who finally answers the phone when you call your credit card company. Asking and meaning it.

Above all else, it is honing the awareness of how our efforts at being human affect and improve another’s life.

These are the small joys and the best ones.