Every year during the early weeks of November, you slowly begin to endure a lingering presence in my mind, though never to my dismay. The impression you've left on me from years past has evolved into an increased appreciation for the contentment you bring me whenever you arrive.
I greatly appreciate the genuinely positive and delightful spirit you impose on me through your arrival. I look forward to you because you radiate a vibe that is so comforting and elated that it saddens me when you suddenly disappear after the new year.
I'd like to thank you for the traditions you've formed in my family over the years. The season wouldn't appear nearly as memorable without our favorite holiday movie, the board game we play solely during the winter and the list of CD's we constantly shuffle on our 90's vintage stereo for two months straight.
And while we're on the topic of CD's, your music is nothing short of heart-warming and never fails to propel me into the seasonal spirit. Nothing absolves my mind of all worries like driving through a snow-covered northeastern Pennsylvania with a highly-select holiday playlist (mainly Michael Bublé's 2012 Christmas album, though, if we're being honest).
I love you for eliciting family gatherings that tend to relieve the inevitable family-oriented drama, even if only for a moment. The laughs and smiles throughout this time are genuine and real, and I hold them close to my heart with each passing moment.
Your style is so memorable, with decorations being a true staple of your demeanor. Decking my home with countless candles, lights, and other holiday trinkets set the cozy mood I most look forward to all year long.
For as long as I can remember, you have been my most beloved time of year. You highlight the best in people by enriching the goodness that can always be found in our society, though it may sometimes fade to what seems like nothing. Although you have been somewhat commercialized and your meaning has been significantly altered over some time, I do my best to remember who you are aside from the shopping, gifts and stresses that our society has imposed upon you.
Anyway, as I write you this letter, while admittedly listening to Michael Bublé serenade me with his top-notch rendition of "All I Want For Christmas Is You," I can sense you creeping into my mind and permeating me with excitement for the months to come. And I have no problem with how early it may seem.
With love and gratitude,