Christmas Eve with my dad tends to look the same every year. We drive the six-hour journey to Mesa, Arizona to spend a few days at my aunt’s house which is spacious enough to accommodate about half of my large family. We collectively agree each year that waiting just one more day to open presents is too big of an ask. So on Christmas Eve every year, my family and I move the furniture in the living room and sit in a large circle—cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents—and practice the tradition we’ve done for as long as any of us can remember. Rather than opening regular presents, we opt to do a secret santa, ensuring we don’t overspend on buying gifts for all 30 individual people. The rule is, once you hit 16 you’re obligated to be a gifter, whether or not you have the funds for it. Below 16 and you’re only on the receiving end.
Growing up, this system was hit or miss for me. One year, I got Disneyland tickets from my uncle who worked for the company—hidden in a cool pair of pajamas to throw me off until I unfolded them-revealing a gleaming envelope with the answer to all of my Christmas wishes. Plus fast passes. Another year, my cousin completely forgot to get me a gift and promised to make it up to me, which he hasn’t done yet in the past six years. So clearly, being a gifter is a huge responsibility not to be taken lightly. This year will be my first being on both the giving and receiving ends of secret santa, and it’s a bittersweet feeling, the feeling that maybe I’m growing up.
My whole life, I’d felt a little on the outs, like all the adults were in on this secret that I was too immature to know. I’d used to beg my Dad to tell me who he had or who had me, only to be met with tight lips. But nothing was more magical than sitting on the plush rug on Christmas Eve, anticipating my name to be called next. This year, I know I have to prove to my family that I’m worthy of the title of gifter.
Whether it be participating in secret santa, transitioning to the adult table, or getting a drivers license, there are little indicators of maturity that pass by and let you know that your childhood is slipping away. Now that I’m finally on the hunt for a gift to participate in this family tradition, I can’t help but feel a little sadness alongside my excitement. Knowing I’ve finally hit this milestone only makes me more aware of how fast time is going by and how much of the future I anticipate instead of relishing the moment, especially when it comes to childhood habits and traditions. While the novelty of my responsibility is riveting now, I know in about two years it will wear off.
In a way, my promotion has instilled a little fear in me, a fear that my adolescence may be fading before my eyes, and there isn’t anything I can do about it. So this year, I’ll make it my priority to preserve what childlike magic still exists within me before I lose it to the responsibilities of growing up. But acknowledging this fear encourages me to make the most of the moment and enjoy my first year of giving. It’s difficult to pinpoint a moment when you know you’ve grown up, but I know when I see the look on my little cousin’s face when I’m revealed as the gifter, I’ll know I’m getting there. 
