Santa's Elves

Throughout my life, Santa has sent three elves to our house to keep an eye on me and my brother. Spencer, Theodore and Gentleheart arrive overnight, a few weeks before Christmas. Each night they move around to another place in the house perching on shelves, windowsills, clocks, mirrors, the top of the fridge. Once each elf choses his new location, they turn back into inanimate figurines. They watch us and report back to Santa about whether or not we are being good.

One year, the elves left tiny candy cane crumbs on the top of the clock. They left an apology, typed on the typewriter I received as a present that year, and signed in pencil. They even left their teeny tiny pencil behind.

Another year, Gentleheart was hiding in the basket of garlic and onions on the top of the fridge, and when my mom opened it to get an onion out, he bit her.

My grandfather told us that when my dad was young, just one elf came to watch him and his siblings. My grandfather said he still sometimes got letters from that elf, who knew the three elves that traveled to our house each year.

So sucessful were my parents in keeping up this story, that we never touched the elves. Even when they were within reach, we didn't touch them. Once, a friend of mine dared me to touch Spencer. She did, poking him quickly and jumping back, but I was too afraid to touch him. If we touched them, they would stay in their clay figurine state forever, and surely Santa would hear that we'd been bad.

When I got home this year, the elves were already there. Of course, now I see them for what they are: hand-painted ceramics. Gentleheart had a chip on his nose.

They stayed in the same spot day after day. Maybe they got too old to move around each night. I can reach them no matter where they are now, since I am taller than my father. But my brother and I never touch them, even now. While the belief in Santa is long gone, the elves still hold their power. Maybe because they were our elves while Santa belonged to everyone. No one else we knew was special enough to have elves come watch them, except for our dad when he was young.

Picking them up seems impossible. You simply can't: humans can't touch elves. To touch them would break their magic.