by Paula Gail Benson
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| From: https://pixabay.com/users/b0red-4473488/ |
I’ll never forget
the joy of that Christmas morning—racing down the steps to my grandparents’
living room, hearing the crackle of wood burning in the fireplace, and seeing
the beautifully decorated tree surrounded by presents. I was only five, but I
could read my name—TEDDY, written in large, capitalized letters—on the tags and
see that a pile of those gifts was meant for me, hopefully filled with Hot
Wheels and Legos. I plopped down, legs cris-crossed, not minding that I could
feel the chill permeating from the wooden floor through the rag rug and my thin
Dr. Denton pjs.
As I reached for the first package, I noticed the green shoes with the curving toes at the edge of the fireplace’s hearth. They looked like they had been kicked off carelessly—as if the wearer had decided to take a nap on the nearby sofa, without marking it with—what were those black lines? Soot?
I became so fascinated by the shoes I didn’t realize my family had begun to enter the room, my twelve-year old sister, Suzanne, yawning and stretching, and my grandmother, Nan, with a tray of mugs. Grandpa—just Pa to us—sipped at his cup, quickly pulling away and blowing at the steamy coffee inside.
Our parents were in the military and had been assigned to posts without family housing. Suzanne and I were staying with my mother’s parents until we got back together.
Nan tried to explain it to me once. “Your parents went to college, learned different languages, and got special training so they could represent the United States in other countries.”
“Yes,” Pa had agreed with her. “They work to make our world a safer place. So, we need to support them by waiting patiently.”
Some days were easier than others.
“Whose shoes are those?” I asked pointing at the green pair on the hearth. Even though dirty, they had something of a magical quality about them. Maybe that was just the curled toes.
Pa frowned. “I haven’t seen them before. Have you, Nan?”
“No.” She put the tray down on the coffee table. “I don’t think they belong to us.”
Suzanne came forward to give them a closer look. “They look like what an elf might wear, only the size seems too big. Maybe a goblin’s shoes?”
I remembered seeing goblins in the Harry Potter movies. They had sharp noses, pointed ears, and worked in banks with other people’s money and possessions. “What would a goblin be doing in our house at Christmas?” I asked.
Suzanne stuck out her chin. “Could be he wants to propose a trade. Like swapping a goblin baby for a human one. We read a story about that at school. The substitute is called a changeling. The supernatural creature leaves one of its own or an item to symbolize the exchange.”
It sounded like the weird kind of story Suzanne would read and remember.
“Perhaps you could be right,” Pa said. He put down his cup and picked up the shoes. “These are finely made.” He ran his finger along the outside stitching, then glanced at the presents beneath the tree. “Santa sure has left a lot of gifts for us this year. Maybe his elf force is ready to make a change—to be on the receiving end for a while.”
“But when would the change take place?” Nan asked as she sat down on the sofa and drew her robe tightly around her.
“Hard to say, without some clear message,” Pa said. “My guess is that the swap would occur when someone in our house fits into these shoes.”
We all looked at each other, then at the shoes Pa held. We had completely forgotten about opening presents.
Pa looked at his feet, then at Nan’s. “Our feet are already too big. We’re going to have to check the children’s. Suzanne, you’re the one who had the idea. Come try them on first.”
Suzanne balked. “What if they have something poisoned inside?”
Pa shook the shoes, inside down, against the hearth. No contents emerged. “Nothing. Just the soot on the outside. Besides, poison wouldn’t be wise if they wanted to make a trade.”
“I don’t want to be a changeling for an elf or goblin,” Suzanne said. I could tell she was near crying.
“There, there, my dear.” Pa put his arm around her shoulders. “With this being Christmas Day, it’s more likely one of Santa’s elves than a goblin. Besides, for someone to leave behind this fine pair of shoes, they seem to be trying to make a good offer for the exchange. They wouldn’t want to hurt the person being substituted. And, if they do want to make a trade, maybe we can negotiate with them and offer them something so we could keep you.”
“Not Jinx or Patti.” I worried about losing our dog and parakeet.
Pa was less protective of our pets. He grumbled a lot about having to feed them.
“I’m guessing they would rather have a worker than another eater to add to their numbers,” Pa said. “Take off your slipper, Suzanne, and hold your foot up against the sole of this shoe.”
With a grimace, Suzanne did as she was told. As she looked at the comparison, I heard her sigh in relief. “My feet are already too big,” she said.
Slapping them against the court as she raced back and forth between the hoops playing basketball, I figured. That had to have flattened and lengthened her feet out.
“Your turn, Teddy,” Pa said.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“No, but you saw the shoes and brought them to our attention. Come on. Let’s see if they fit you.”
I stood, the cold from the floor penetrating my bare feet. “Wouldn’t Santa have to fill out some special forms for me to live with him—like you did when we came to live with you?”
Pa gave my question some thought. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to face that situation when we reach it. If we do. Come on now. You’re not going to let a pair of pointy toed shoes scare you, are you?” He shook the shoes at me, and I noticed each had a bell on the end of the curve. They jingled. I wondered if searchers would follow that sound if you got lost at the North Pole.
Reluctantly, I approached Pa. He set the right shoe down. I eased my foot inside. It was lined with something like fleece, that seemed to surround the coldness and banish it away. My sole thumped against the bottom and my toes stretched forward. The words, “don’t let it fit, don’t let it fit,” kept echoing through my brain. Suddenly, I realized my heel had inched into the middle and room remained at both the front and back.
“They’re too big.” I practically shouted.
“Well, then.” Pa helped me pull my foot out. “This must not be the year for an exchange.”
Suzanne gave me some fluffy socks she had in the pocket of her robe. “Maybe next year Mom and Dad will be home and Santa’s elf will have to look elsewhere to make the switch.”
That sounded like a good plan to me.
A year passed quickly. I moved up from kindergarten to the first grade. Suzanne and I had weekly Facetime parental chats. We settled in with Pa and Nan, but hoped we’d soon be back with our parents.
More swiftly than it seemed possible, we were seeing Christmas decorations and listening to Christmas music on the radio again. I had forgotten all the gifts I’d received last year and had a new, longer list for Santa. When we decorated our tree, I saw Pa place the green toe-curled shoes on the hearth.
“Why did you keep those?” I asked.
“They are perfectly good shoes,” he replied. “Just a little sooty on the outside.”
“But what if they mean I have to go live with Santa?”
Pa sat on the sofa and stared at the shoes. “He must be a nice enough man to bring presents to all the children of the world.”
“I belong here with you, Nan, and Suzanne. And, then with my parents when they come home.”
“Huh, is that so? I don’t think I saw that on your list for Santa.”
“I didn’t think I needed to write it out.”
“You know, Teddy, Santa and his elves work hard for us, getting ready all year so we can enjoy celebrating Christmas. Sort of like what your parents do—work real diligently to make sure our country is safe and protected. Maybe this year, we can show them how much we appreciate all they do.”
“How?”
“I read at the mall they are filling a bus with toys to distribute to children in need. We could go get a few things from the store to donate. Things you think someone like you would like.”
“When do I have to try on the shoes?”
“Hasn’t been a year yet since last Christmas. If they are still here Christmas morning, we’ll check then. Meanwhile, let’s try to make a nice holiday for some other people.”
What he didn’t say made me wonder—was he getting me used to collecting Christmas toys in case my feet fit the curvy toed shoes and I would have to go to work at the North Pole? Would Santa leave a baby elf in my place? What would my parents say about taking in an elf changeling when they returned?
I forgot about my worries as I looked over the action figures to buy for the toy drive. Suzanne selected some games. After we gave them to the people in charge of the bus, Suzanne suggested that we go get a photo with the mall Santa.
“We could send it to our parents,” she said.
I was leery about encountering Santa, even a mall version. I’d heard he wasn’t the one from the North Pole, but a representative, like our parents representing our country. Even so, I figured the mall Santa had a direct line to the man himself, and I didn’t want confirmation that I was being considered for an elf swap.
Pa and Nan escorted us to the Santa’s mini wonderland at the shopping area’s center court. I hesitated to join the line until Nan said, “It would give your mother a nice remembrance of home. We used to bring her here to visit Santa.”
“C’mon, Squirt,” Suzanne challenged me. “It’s just a photo op.”
We inched our way forward until one of the tall elf guides—a female with long dark hair, and pointed ears shaped from cloth and attached to her hat—led us forward toward Santa’s throne. I noticed her pointy toed shoes had no jingle bells. Before taking her place on his right, Suzanne told Santa we wanted to get a picture for our parents and talked with him about them being in the military.
Santa scrutinized me. “Maybe this young man would like a consultation.” He patted his lap for me to take a seat.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I sent my list in already.”
He wrinkled his nose, making his wire-rimmed glasses move up and down. “Somehow, I sense you have a question for me.”
I looked straight into Santa’s eyes and felt like they saw more than I wanted him to see. He might just be a representative, but I think he exercised some of the real Santa’s powers.
“You’re wondering about seeing your parents again,” Santa said. “You miss them a lot.”
I nodded.
He watched me for a moment. “They miss you, too.”
I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know so badly. “When will they be home?”
He smiled. “You mean, when will you all be back together?”
I nodded again.
“Things have a way of working out.”
Our elf guide called out it was time for the photo. I looked forward as our grandparents snapped some shots with their cell phones. In the next minute, we were whisked along to rejoin them.
I didn’t like the way my talk with the mall Santa ended. I would have preferred reassurance I would not become an elf substitute.
That night, after everyone went to bed, I snuck downstairs and placed a bare foot inside one of the elven shoes. My heel stayed firm against the back and my toes reached the place where the point started.
A perfect fit. I was doomed to be an elf substitute.
With Christmas Day approaching, I withdrew from more activities, fearing that I might enjoy them too much and be even more miserable if I couldn’t participate next year. Did the elves have time for caroling or eating cookies and hot chocolate? While Santa might be kind to people he brought gifts to, he must be a taskmaster to keep the elves working to make the presents.
Suzanne’s sports and school schedule kept getting busier. Pa and Nan had a hard time keeping up with all her events. Maybe things would be better for them if I was out of the way.
When we spoke with our parents, we heard their tours had been extended. Mom sounded worried and asked to talk to Pa and Nan. Suzanne and I left the room but listened at the door.
Mom apologized about the uncertainty. “I know it’s meant a tremendous change in your lifestyles,” she said.
“The ability to adjust is what makes us human,” Pa told her.
I figured I had done a decent job adapting to human conditions. I wondered if I would do as well as an elf substitute.
Could that be why Santa was looking for a human changeling? To make elves more human-like?
In a way, I’d be like an explorer, infiltrating a different culture and learning to live by its rules. Kind of like what my parents had to do with their military assignments.
Also, like the mall Santa representing the real Santa Claus.
It took me a while to work it all out, but I knew what I had to do.
After everyone had gone to sleep on Christmas Eve, I snuck downstairs. Santa would be coming for me this year. I had determined to go quietly, to do my duty, leaving a note behind for my family so they would understand. Here’s what I wrote:
Dear Pa, Nan, Mom, Dad, and Suz,
Don’t worry. I am
with Santa. I love you.
Teddy
I wrapped myself in a blanket and waited behind the Christmas tree, where I would be out of sight. I didn’t want to make my grandparents or Santa mad about me being awake and waiting up for Santa’s arrival. Even facing changeling-hood, I didn’t want to risk getting on a bad list.
As the hour neared midnight, I found myself huddling within the blanket’s folds and dozing off. Finally, I gave up fighting sleep and let the dreaming overtake me. I heard a sound and realized I wasn’t alone in the room. But I couldn’t open my eyes, and I wasn’t able to move.
I saw the room, as if it was part of my dream. The lights of the Christmas tree twinkled brightly. A small figure dressed all in green—must have been an elf—stood on the hearth and reached for the elven shoes. Beside him was the man in red I’d been waiting to see.
Santa watched the elf before saying, “The family kept your shoes. I had a feeling they might.”
The elf hung his head briefly, then turned to look at Santa. “We had been so busy preparing for Christmas. I thought I had time for a short nap. Before I realized it, you were pulling me up the chimney and I had left my magic shoes behind. What a year it’s been having to learn to get along without them.”
“Yes, but you adapted. That’s what we creatures of the earth must do to keep surviving.” Santa walked over to me and picked up the letter I had written. “Interesting. This young man feared he might have to take your place when I returned.”
The elf groaned. “Oh, dear. Now I’ve made things worse by scaring a child.”
“As I’ve learned over the years, children can be very resilient, particularly if they are well taught. This child has adapted to his circumstances, but he’s also learned something important.”
“What’s that?”
“That you can manage almost anything if you act out of love.”
Nodding, the elf said, “That’s an important lesson.”
“For all of us. Come now, we must get back to our journey and Teddy must return to his slumber until he wakes to see his Christmas gifts.”
After that, I fell into a deep sleep, so restful and quiet that I don’t remember dreaming. The next morning, I heard a door close and voices through the house. There was laughing, and crying, and several people were calling my name.
“Where’s Teddy?”
“He’s not in his room.”
“Teddy, where are
you?”
I struggled to get up. Even with the blanket, I felt frozen to the bone. Moving was a challenge, and speaking seemed impossible. Finally, I croaked out, “Here!”
A mad rush invaded the living room. Arms surrounded me and I was pelted with human kisses. Not just licks from Jinx.
“Mom and Dad are home,” Suzanne sang out.
“How?” I asked, looking up into their smiling faces.
“A new set of orders,” Mom said.
I had forgotten how sweet her voice sounded. “You’re home for good?”
“Home for good, Teddy.” Dad’s hands lifted me high off the floor.
From above the group, I looked at my sister, parents, and grandparents, all gathered in a circle. But, maybe best of all, when I glanced at the hearth, I saw the green pointy toed shoes were gone.
