I was picking out a Christmas tree with my parents this year, as we do every year, and the nostalgic smell of pine overwhelmed my nose and reminded me of the many Christmases that have come before this one. I was then hit with the realization upon reminiscing those past holidays, that this will be my last Christmas before I am a legal adult. Now, turning 18 does not necessarily make you an adult just because the world starts to see you as one; it does, however, spark this period of reflection on just how quickly you got to where you are.

It is odd the way time leaves us completely lost as to how we could have let so much of it pass without appreciating it. Suddenly you are an adult looking around at your childhood home during the holidays and wondering why things do not feel the way they did when you were a kid. 

As I have grown into a teenager, like a lot of teenagers, I have discovered the tragedy that is melancholic nostalgia. That reminder that no matter how hard you try to hold onto your adolescence, it still finds a way to slip through your fingers. Now the Christmas lights do not seem to shine as brightly, and where there used to be magic, there is now this lump of coal in my throat. 

We are taught to believe that growing up is this unappetizing, otherworldly concept. In a way, it is, because when you have not lived through a version of yourself, you imagine that future person to be intimidating because you are still walking the path to get there. The holidays, despite whatever you celebrate, can be the root of reminiscence on just how far you have come and just how much left you have to learn about yourself.

I remember the feeling in my chest as a little girl on Christmas morning, when I was waiting for my family to wake up so we could open up presents. I remember the gleam of the lights and the smell of the coffee brewing in my kitchen. I remember the sound of my grandparents laughing in the background of the sound of me shaking my gifts in hope to know what is inside. That, to me, is what true happiness feels like, and still I reflect on those days where I was young enough to not notice any time pass, to not notice anything at all. The most important thing in my world was this carefully wrapped present in my little hands that was yet to be revealed and be all mine.

It may be the incorruptibility of how small everything seems. When the only worry in the world was wishing Christmas would come sooner or perhaps which dessert you would have after dinner. It may be the fact that the things that used to be so larger than life are no longer comparable to the challenges we face as young adults. 

So, why do holidays get sadder the older we get? One might presume it is because the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus stopped showing up every year. However, I believe there is an existential depth to the question aside from the surface level assumption. That when we are born there is what seems to be a perpetual innocence we hold within ourselves that we suppose we will always be there.

Nonetheless, with each passing holiday, we all face the universal experience that is learning that the wholesomeness of our youth eventually becomes maturity. 

The reality of the matter is that the only thing that separates the person you used to be and the person you are now is time and time never changes, we are the ones changing.