54 percent of me still believes Santa exists. Maybe more like 64. When I was seven, I, along with my brothers, attempted to sleep next to the fireplace all night long to try to catch Santa in action. This year, at the ripe old age of 17, I still shake with excitement every time I pass the Christmas tree. I live for December. Christmas is the eighth wonder of the world to me and here’s why.

My love for Christmas does not revolve around the single day but rather revolves around all the days leading up to Christmas—the days of anticipation, excitement and coldness that pierces your bones, to the days afterwards with warm fires, snow days, and A Charlie Brown Christmas on repeat. Christmas, for me, is the embodiment of winter.

Seventeen years of celebrating Christmas brings some strong senses and memories back to my mind. When someone mentions Christmas, I automatically sense my past frustration at attempting to untangle 20 Christmas lights (why is there not an easier way?!). I can also feel the cold stabbing my skin as my arms attempt to reach branches that were not made to be choked with plastic lights as my brothers watch, forever unhelpful.

Christmas also means hot chocolate and lying next to the fire in fuzzy socks, rolling on the ground to find a position that is neither cold nor scalding (my only exercise during all winter).

There is nothing as magical as driving around at night in the nights leading up to Christmas. Seeing houses lit up in the night with fat Santas plopped on lawns while Christmas music belts out from the radio can’t help but make me smile.

If Christmas music played all year I would probably terminate the radio but playing it only a month in a year makes that whole month seep with Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, the Santa tracker website is refreshed every minute (this year it is sure to be refreshed more than college pages), ugly Christmas sweaters are worn with pride, and the smell of pine trees dominates.

On Christmas itself, I always throw myself out of bed by some ungodly force. My bed hasn’t witnessed such quick detachment since the days when I was actually excited to go to school (…..).

I am usually not that excited to open presents as I have severe trust issues after an unfortunate incident in which my mother re-gifted my brother his own iPod. This was followed by another unfortunate incident in which my brothers wrapped a two foot wide, five foot tall box and I opened it only to find 10 consequently smaller boxes. The last box, the size of a bag of M&M’s, had lip gloss in it.

Following the opening of presents, I watch The Grinch Stole Christmas and then have a modern Last Supper. This is soon followed by going to polish church, which is really just as engaging as it sounds. Christmas music plays all day of course.

So while all of you might be “missin’ summer right about now,” embrace this wickedly, wonderful cold and spread holiday joy, not rumors.