By Alexandra Hulit –

The View –  

The holidays light a fire in my heart.

People ask me why I am obsessed with Christmas and Thanksgiving and New Year’s, but I don’t have an answer.

Should I say it’s because I’m from New England, which is surely a part of it?

Or because I have the most amazing memories of waking up at four in the morning and sneaking downstairs with my brother to see how many presents we got?

We used to spend what felt like hours tip-toeing down the stairs, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak and wake up my parents. In the living room, we’d run a hand over the wrapping paper and shake our stockings without looking, getting a feel of how many gifts were inside.

It could be the process of finding our Christmas tree that makes Christmas so special.

Every November, a tree farm company from Vermont would set up trees in our town. I remember the day we discovered the lot — it was snowing like crazy three days before Christmas and the person manning the trees had only three left. We picked one out and stopped at the Dollar Store to get ornaments. After all, we had already set up our lopsided artificial tree. But our home felt extra-special with the real tree. I felt sorry for our fake tree, so I dubbed it the “The Little Engine that Could,” because of how long we’ve had it. That was four years ago, and every year since then, we always buy a real Christmas tree along with The Little Engine that Could.

But maybe it’s the little details that make Christmas one-of-a-kind.

The ugly Christmas sweaters, the peppermint mochas, the crisp clean air as you hang lights up on your porch.

Rushing to the mall and shopping for your family, feeling a surge of joy when you see the perfect gift.

The second the school bell rings and you grasp the fact it’s Christmas break, knowing nothing is expected of you until after the New Year.

Volunteering at food drives and soup kitchens because it feels wonderful to give back, better than obtaining presents of your own.

Devouring appetizers on Christmas Eve, and the moment your heart sinks when the clock ticks midnight after the festivities and Adele is played instead of cheery Christmas music.

Watching Christmas movies in July because it is, after all, Christmas in July.

Knowing that at the end of the year, you will share more cheer and happiness because Christmas will be approaching again, and you will feel like a part of something big, something that 81 percent of Americans celebrate, something that even Scrooge and all of the haters can’t take away from the world.

The joy of Christmas.

That’s my answer.

That’s why I love it so much.