It all went down during my fourth grade year. The winter season was fast approaching, with the trees losing their leaves and temperatures dropping at a steady pace. Each day, another house on my street was covered in Christmas lights. My family had not yet had the time to decorate; we tended to be one of those procrastinating-type families who would wait to put up all of the decorations until the week before Christmas. It was also quite typical of us to forget to put the star on the tree even by the time Christmas rolled around. But despite the fact that our house was still decked in Halloween decorations, my brothers and I were definitely getting into the holiday spirit.

On December 1st, one of my classmates at school told me about how he would write a letter to his so-called ‘elf’ every year, asking for the elf to come visit him until Christmas day. I decided I would try it. I raced all the way home from the bus stop, not even stopping to admire the new set of Christmas lights that had been strung on my neighbor's house.

Rather than going through my typical routine - eating a snack while starting on my homework - I threw my backpack on the floor (probably smashing all of its contents) and ran upstairs to get a clean sheet of printer paper. I then grabbed a brand new box of markers from the office and headed to my room, where I proceeded to write my letter. I chose my room of all places because of one reason: secrecy. I wanted to be special, to be the only kid in my family who was lucky enough to get their own elf, which is why I locked my door and told my brothers that I was busy doing homework.

I sat down on the soft carpeted floor and grabbed a nice red marker. Dear Mr./Mrs. Elf, I wrote. I picked up a green marker for the next line, writing: Merry Christmas! I proceeded to switch off between red and green for each line, saying: I would love it if you would come visit me until Christmas. It will be a lot of fun! I really hope you come. Love, Kristina.

My friend at school, the one who had told me about the elf, had said that the elves were extremely picky. He said that in order to get their attention, I needed to decorate my letter with pictures. Wanting everything to be perfect, I spent a full hour drawing little Christmas trees, Santa hats, presents, mistletoe, and reindeer, covering my letter to the point where there were no longer any specs of white visible to the naked eye. Once I was done, I cautiously placed the letter on my shelf, careful not to crease my hard work. But that was not all I had to do. Next, the boy had told me to set up a bed for my elf. I went into the linen closet and pulled out one of my baby blankets, small enough for a stuffed elf. I found a neat corner in my room and placed the blanket there, folding it over at the top to form a little pillow. I grabbed a mini candy cane from the kitchen and carefully tucked it in between the sheets of the elf’s bed. I was all set.

Excited, I jumped up from my position on the floor, grabbed some tape, and began to tape the letter onto the outside of my bedroom door. And of course, just as I had finished taping my letter, my little brother Casey appeared at my side. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied casually, attempting to block the letter from his sight.

Casey was not buying it. “C’mon, just show me.” Reluctantly, I moved out of the way.

“Dear Mr. Elf? What the heck is that?”

“It’s just some thing this guy told me about at school. I’m just gonna try it out.”

“I wanna do it!” he exclaimed, without even taking the time to familiarize himself with what it was I was doing. That was pretty typical of Casey, always acting as a follower in order to avoid the risk of being left out. Despite the level of annoyance that he had caused me, Casey looked at me with those big blue eyes, and I was unable to say no to his cute little first grade face. 

“Alright, I’ll help you, let’s go grab some more markers.” And of course, Casey told my other brother, Nicky, and I had to spend one more hour helping them with their letters. As we were sitting on the floor of Casey’s and Nicky’s bedroom, my mom peaked her head through the door.

“Whatcha guys up to?”

“We’re writing letters to elves!” the boys chorused excitedly.

“If we write them letters, they will come and stay with us, and they will hide from us and give us candy when we find them!” Casey shouted, bubbling with joy.

“Casey, they might come and stay with us, emphasis on the word might. Don’t get your hopes up,” I reminded him. Casey’s forehead creased as he contemplated this, but his eyes still sparkled with curiosity and excitement.
“Alright, sounds fun!” my mom responded. “Just make sure you guys get your homework done.”

“We will,” the three of us promised.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to last for ages, and I could not wait for the next morning. When the time finally came to go to bed, the boys and I all made sure that our letters were secured tightly on our doors. I then hopped into bed and fell fast asleep.

The next morning, my alarm clock rang at 7:30 and my eyes flew open. I immediately looked toward the opposite corner of my room and saw a little head peaking out of the bed I had made the night before. I jumped out of my own bed and rushed across the room. Tucked away in the mini bed was a stuffed elf about one foot tall,  wearing a green dress and a cute red hat. Next to her lay a short note telling me her name (Jingle), where she came from, and how elated she was to be here, all in crafty rhymes. My heart was pounding with excitement. I could not believe that Santa had sent one of his very own elves to visit me!

I then ran to my brothers’ room, and there I found them reading their own notes and examining their elves. They had both received male elves, Nicky’s dressed in all green, and Casey’s in all red. We all jumped around in joy, reading our notes to each other and fantasizing about what they might do next. When I arrived at school, I told my friend that my elf had come that morning.

“Just wait,” he said. “Tomorrow when you wake up she will be gone and there will be a note telling you how to find her. Mine always has candy for me when I find him.”

True to his word, the next morning my elf was gone. All that remained in her bed was another note, this one giving me clever clues in regards to her whereabouts. I found her in my Christmas tree, her head disguised as one of the ornaments. With her was a big pack of Pez, the Christmas special.

This routine continued smoothly for a whole week, until one devastating Saturday morning. My brothers and I had been searching for our elves for the past half hour, and were thus far unsuccessful. I decided to venture off on my own and check the closet in our parents’ room. As I opened the door and crawled inside, I began to search through the cluttered space. Underneath a pile of shoes was a white Target bag. I opened the bag to uncover a long receipt of payment for various Christmas candies, the majority of which had been given to me by my elf.

I then figured it all out. The elves were not magical. It was my mom: hiding the elves, writing the notes, buying the candy. With this discovery, I felt as though all of my Christmas

spirit had been drained from within me. But, being the caring sister that I was, I never did tell my brothers about my discovery in fear of ruining their childhoods, nor did I tell my mom. I continued to play along for two reasons. One because I wanted to make her feel good, but most importantly, because I liked getting the candy.