Each year, after school lets out, I come home to a wonderfully decorated home filled with the sweet aroma of Christmas cookies and nut-roll. Our eight-foot Christmas tree is perfectly lit and covered with the most beautiful ornaments from when my siblings and I were babies. We have a village of ceramic houses set up in a classic formation, Santa and Mrs. Claus at the top of the hill outside their white castle with the sleigh and reindeer ready-to-go. The outside of our home is lit up completely, from the driveway to the front porch, to the back deck and everywhere in between. The mantle above the fireplace dressed with pre-lit garland and five stockings, each hand cross-stitched by my mother. But none of these things matter when I think about why the holidays are most important to me: my family. No amount of Christmas decoration could ever replace the memories I make each year with my family.

Every year since I can remember, my family and I would gather together on Christmas Eve for mass at our local church. We’d all dress in button-ups and slacks or dresses, pantyhose, and heels. I always loved getting all dressed up, asking my mother to put my sparkly green and red bow in my hair, and cramming into our family car for a ten minute car ride to church. After church let out, we would all follow one car behind the other to grandma and pap’s house for dinner. We’d always eat something fantastic, as my grandmother is a fabulous cook. My absolute favorite part was, and still is, her macaroni salad. We’d sit at dinner and crack jokes at each other, some of which we still make at each other today. (Don’t worry, they’re all in good fun.) After dinner, we’d all gather around the Christmas tree in the adjacent room to open up our Christmas gifts from our grandparents. We’d all exchange our gifts to one another and play in the ripped up wrapping paper after. I remember the entire floor being covered in tissue paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, and bows and my grandparents’ dogs playing in it with us. We’d leave to go home and I’d always stay up as long as possible in excitement for Christmas morning with my family.

I’d wake up the next day and run downstairs, following the sweet smell of cinnamon down the stairs to the kitchen, where I’d find my mother baking cinnamon rolls for our family. I was always the first one to be up, other than my mom. My least favorite part of Christmas morning was waiting for everyone else to wake up to open our gifts. However, my mother and I were able to chat just the two of us while we waited for everyone else. The gifts would come and go each year, but each year we would get something fun in our stockings: a gag-gift. My favorite was the year my mother gave my two other siblings mini nerf guns, which prompted the “shoot Devin” mission. We all laughed and had a great time, I’ll never forget it.

But if you, my dear reader, will notice, I didn’t mention any gifts I got each year. The gifts I receive each year from my parents, siblings, grandparents, and friends, don’t lie in the actual gift itself, but rather in the time I’m able to spend with everyone. The car rides to church, the dinner jokes, playing in the wrapping paper Christmas Eve and Day, the cinnamon rolls, and the gag-gifts, they all make up the holiday memories I’ll never be able to forget.

So, if there’s anything I can ask of you, my readers, it’s that you spend your holidays making memories with your loved ones, as you never know when time will run out. Make memories of the little things with the people that matter most, because they’ll last longer than the sweater you got two Christmases ago.