When I see a Christmas tree, even after Christmas, I often think back in time … and recall Santa’s lost elf. Lost elf? Yes, as the new year approaches, indulge in a touch of whimsy, a recollection from childhood, or …how life can be slowed by one good memory.

Years ago, our family would – probably like yours – decorate our Christmas tree with frivolity, maybe eggnog and music (yes, from a “record player”), kids digging out ornaments, putting hooks on them, stringing chains of paper, popcorn, and cranberries, throwing on tinsel. Laughter and relief was the leitmotif, the theme of our holiday stretch – that and not being in school!

The tree was up after Christmas, long after. One Christmas Eve… the way I recall it, if you can believe it, one of Santa’s elves got lost, or forgotten or, well … here’s the story.

Young me knew important things, stuff they do not tell you, but you know. While no good authority for it, I knew Santa had his elves, and that they traveled, and that one likely leaned over the roof’s eaves and checked on me, making sure I was asleep each year, before Santa decided to descend our chimney, step from our fireplace, and do his work.

I knew – like most Maine kids – how chores worked, and how labor gets delegated to those able to assist. Obviously, Santa brought his elves along to help, maybe a couple held the reindeer team by their halters on the roof – while others, probably taking turns the way we kids did doing dishes and lugging wood, came down the chimney with him.

It made perfect sense. This particular year, everything was just as you would expect, “stockings hung by the chimney with care,” each of us knowing “Saint Nick soon would be there,” our tree bright, and “not a creature was stirring,” as the book says. And we had … creatures, too.

We were not sure about those “sugar plums,” and no one in our house wore a “kerchief” or “cap” to bed, but we got the idea and knew that stuff went way back, although no one said how far. We figured to when parents wore kerchiefs and kids ate sugar plums, if that is kids did.

That one year, everything was lovely and quiet, and we all went to bed excited, sure to get to sleep fast, since we never knew when “he” might arrive, what with the wind, weather, and globe to travel.

Suddenly, I woke up. I did not wake to noise, not that I recall, although I later wondered if it was hooves overhead. I just had to visit the bathroom. Drat …of all nights, but I had to go.

Worse still, our house was all on one floor, bathroom at the other end, which meant passing through the living room, past the chimney, stockings, and tree. What if he came while I was out of bed? No one ever tells you the rules or exceptions for things like this.

I decided I had no choice, had to be quick, then back to bed, sleep, not a peep. Bleary-eyed, and nervous to go down the hall, I would pass the tree, get through the kitchen, back to bed fast.

Half asleep, the living room delivered my first shock. The stockings were full, the cookies gone, glass was empty. He had been here! What a relief, but then – what if he was still near? I sped on, tiptoed in footed winter pajamas, was returning when …I heard the noise.

I froze. It was in the living room. When things quieted, I was sneaking by the tree when, on the other side of it, a ball broke. I nearly hit the ceiling.  Obviously – because this is how my brain was working – an elf was still here, hunkered down, hiding behind the tree, lost or scared.

Last thing I wanted was to get caught by one of Santa’s loyal elves, or see him left behind. Of course, he did not want to be seen either. What elf would, given the facts. We were in a spot.

I did not know what to do. The Big Guy was probably still up on the roof, stockings filled, waiting. Why did these things always happen to me? Why did I have to pee again? This is what goes through a mind, should you are ever be in this situation.

So there I stood, not daring to look back at the chimney, fearing the Big Guy’s return for his elf, not sure how to handle my own presence, worried about that elf behind the tree. Woe always me!

This situation was not in any of the stories, or was it? The poem’s words flowed back to me. “A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread…” Suddenly, calm flooded me. I headed for bed, which is when came the last shock. From behind the tree, like that, jumped our cat! No Christmas eve was quite as traumatic, but laughter and relief were the leitmotif. So, when you see a tree, think of me and … that lost elf or his cousin, who wasn’t. Happy New Year!

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.