I once had a friend who was incredibly good at crafts.

She truly had the skill: she had published a book, hosted workshops, and whatever she made with her hands felt almost like magic.

Back then, every Valentine’s Day I would receive a handmade gift from her. They were never expensive things, but they were delicate, unique, and carried her unmistakable touch, full of thought and care.

I kept them all.

There was always a simple excitement in waiting. I would wonder, What will she make this year?

But slowly, something began to change.

From a certain year on, the gifts felt different. It was no longer something she had made specifically for me. Instead, it was something she had purchased or stocked for her work, and she had simply set one aside for me.

There was nothing wrong with the gift itself. It just no longer carried the trace of something made for me.

Later, even the act of exchanging gifts between us changed quietly. It started to feel as if we needed to give something with a certain “weight,” something substantial enough to represent our friendship.

The gifts became more polished. More proper. And more standardized. But the anticipation disappeared.

We were both busy, work, responsibilities, life. Handmade things require time. Time turns into cost. Cost slowly becomes pressure.

Little by little, gift-giving stopped being a surprise and began to feel like fulfilling an obligation. No one ever said it out loud, but the small flame of care that once fueled it quietly went out.

Sometimes I still take out the things she made for me long ago. I look at them slowly and appreciate them again.

That kind of texture cannot be mass-produced.

They are proof of a time when our lives were not yet so heavily directed by schedules and responsibilities, when we were still willing to spend time on each other.

Some friendships fade not because of money or material things, but because our attention and energy become divided elsewhere.

The most valuable thing was never the gift itself.

It was that someone was willing to slow down for you.



—— XC Scribbles · 壹佰伍拾柒 CLVII 👋