The holiday season is such a unique time. As soon as Thanksgiving concludes, it feels like everything is sprinkled with a healthy dose of holiday cheer. I love this time of year- watching all of the classic Christmas movies that play over and over on TV, piling into the car on a cold December evening in order to drive around and gaze at all the extravagant decorations around town, having an excuse to eat peppermint-flavored candy and sugar cookies on a daily basis. But if I’m going to be honest, nothing can compare to the feeling of being a kid in late December. My childhood was seeped in holiday traditions. Being the ancient nineteen-year-old I am, I want to take the time to reflect on how this magical part of the year - with two days in particular being the highlight - created memories that I will cherish forever.

For as long as I can remember, Christmas Eve has always been spent at my paternal grandma’s house, where my brother and I would have the honor of being the only kids there. While the grown-ups remained at the dinner table talking, we would crawl around underneath the Christmas tree, expertly tracking which presents bore our names on the name tags. I would carefully evaluate the size and weight of each present allotted to me, and then gently prod my fingers around the edges in order to get a feel for its texture. During this intense process, I would often dip my hand into the candy bowl in order to re-energize myself with some Christmas-colored M&M’s.

Once we got home from Grandma’s house, my brother and I would gather around our kitchen table, telling our mom that we had to get Santa’s snack ready, as well as the snack we put out for the reindeer. These snacks have varied throughout the years, but I know that we always left out a bowl of milk for the reindeer. We would place our respective letters addressed to Santa out next to the numerous snack items, and then we would be forced into going to bed, my body and mind so jittery with excitement that it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

Christmas morning was the event of the year. Yeah, birthdays are exciting and hold the distinct that it’s a celebration directly solely at you, but there is something magical about waking up early on Christmas day to find a generous pile of presents wrapped in sparkling silver wrapping paper, the tree seemingly watching these treasures with a protective eye. “Santa” was pretty organized and would mark our presents with the first initial of our name with black Sharpie in order to eliminate any confusion.

Because we had to excruciatingly wait for every family member to be awake in order to start opening our presents, which was made even more painful by the fact that my dad enjoys his sleep, I would then wander into the kitchen, reading through the letter Santa had written back to me. He would answer all my burning questions about how many elves he had in his service and who his favorite reindeer was, all in a handwriting that was intriguingly similar to that of my dad’s. Santa and the reindeer all enjoyed their snacks, a generous amount of crumbs dusting their plates as evidence. He also always wrote in his letters how much he and his reindeer loved the food we gave them.

Nothing could match the thrill of opening that first present on Christmas morning. My whole family watching me, I would carefully slide my fingers under the Scotch tape, trying my hardest not to rip it open in two seconds. And then, in a blink of an eye, it was over. All the presents have been unwrapped, examined, and passed around. Crumpled wrapping paper and limp bows dot the floor. The most important ceremony of Christmas morning is over.

As cheesy as this might sound, there is way more to the holiday season than that of getting presents. I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t enjoy getting presents. But as I get older, I have realized the value in giving rather than getting. I love putting together cute little gift bags that I know others will appreciate. It feels so good watching someone else’s face light up in response to the amount of thought and effort you put into a present for them. That is where the real spirit of the holiday season lies.

Even though I no longer wake up at the crack of dawn to shake all my presents underneath the tree and marvel at Santa’s response to my letter, this time of year will always hold a place in my heart. This isn’t just a holiday to me. It’s a time to absorb all the happy memories that were established in the past, as well as continuing to create treasured memories for the future.