The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was long over. The floats had passed hours ago, and Santa had made his official appearance.

After the final helping of stuffing and the last scraps of pie were discarded, and the Thanksgiving holiday had officially come to an end, I was faced with questions from my mother and father that a teenager can normally answer with ease: “So Jenn, do you have any idea what you’d like for Christmas?”

Any other year, I would have rattled off a list of books, CDs, and clothing that I had been eyeing, and called it a day. This year, however, something else had been consuming my thoughts. When I thought about it, what I wanted was something that is not so easily acquired by parents and stuffed into a stocking. What I really wanted was not a new cardigan sweater or the most recent Flaming Lips CD. What I wanted was not so tangible.

As a high school senior, the past few months had been filled - not with particular grief or joy, but just filled. The college admissions process had consumed all us seniors. And as my final college applications were sent out, the best Christmas present I could possibly ask for would be in a white envelope in my mailbox, or patiently awaiting the click of my mouse in my Gmail inbox. Like many other hard-working seniors, all I really wanted for Christmas this year was my college acceptance letter.

I can distinctly remember last year when my senior friends shared these same sentiments with me. I thought they were crazy, but now I understand. What seems like merely a location or name across a sweatshirt for some college-bound students, for others is so much more. Sealed by destiny, those envelopes so many of us hope to receive before Christmas are packed not just with sheets of paper but our futures. They hold some of the most important keys to our success, and dictate what could shape us into the individuals we want to be.

Our essays have been written, edited, perfected, and sent off. Our portfolios have been reviewed, and our auditions performed. We’ve done our community service, held our officer positions at school, trudged through our AP courses, and, of course, taken our SATs. And now, we wait.

So, last week, I didn’t quite know how to respond to my parents; I told them I would let them know soon. But what I do know is that I’ve been pretty darn good the past four years. Santa ... do you hear me?