I have reached the age where gifts don’t hold much importance to me. For the first time, when my mom asked me what I wanted this year, I could sincerely say “nothing.” All I really want is a sense of mental peace for the next few weeks. In order to achieve that surreal state of mind, I give people cards (yes, holiday cards).

The first time I gave someone a Christmas card was six years ago. My sophomore English teacher was one of the kindest individuals I had ever met, and I wanted her to know. I wrote her a lengthy message about how much I appreciated her, and at the time I didn’t think much of it. My senior year, she told me that she still had the card—that it meant the world to her. It took me five minutes to fill out the card. Not even.

From that moment on, the holidays changed for me. I noticed how little people feel appreciated, and it broke my heart. I was determined to try and change that. Hallmark and Papyrus became my favorite holiday stores, and instead of buying small gifts, I gave everyone a card with a reminder of how they impacted my life. To this day, people bring up the cards I gave them, and, as cheesy as it sounds, that is the best gift I could receive.

This year was a little different. Never before have I felt more motivated to remind people of how loved they are, and it might be because of all of the death my family experienced this year. I have lost people who I would give anything to tell them one more time how much I appreciate them. But I can’t. Verbally expressing my emotions is a constant struggle, but I can write as if my heart is overflowing with them—so I give cards.

Watching someone read my words is bittersweet. I love seeing their eyes light up (or tear up, in some cases), for I know that in that brief moment, I made a difference in their life. Yet, there is a part of my heart that breaks—the fact that we are so emotionally moved by a few sentences of kindness is proof that we fail to show it enough.

So, what do I want for Christmas? I want to remind people how much they mean to me—that even if I have only encountered them once or twice, they have made a mark on who I am right now. The greatest gifts I can give are my words—they are really all I have. I keep every card I receive (I have some from my eighth birthday!) and look through them once a year. People remember when you make them feel appreciated, and I have found that when that message is written down, in permeant ink, that it lasts longer than any gift you could possibly give.