I’m Santa’s granddaughter. And I’m a little bit lost.

My name is Alyssa Claus. I was born in 2004. In case you haven’t figured it out already, everyone in our family lives as long as they want and can age however they please. There’s a lot of people, but I grew up that way, and I’ve gotten used to it.

My mom is American— and Santa is her dad. My own father is from California, but he left ages ago and I’ve never met him. I don’t know, Mom doesn’t like to talk about it. But she’s lived here ever since they met, and she fell in love with the country; so I was raised in the United States.

Like any other American teenager, I’ve been through it all; cell phones, high school, Instagram, (and yes, even crushing on boys) you name it. But I’m not completely normal. Ever December 1st, I take my laptop, my credit card, and my schoolwork and stuff it all in a duffel bag, and in the dead of night on Dec 1 a magic sleigh suddenly pulls up on our front lawn.

“Grandpap’s here!” My mom calls from the kitchen.

That’s when things start to change for me. The entire month of December, we’re expected to live at the North Pole with all of our other relatives and help the elves prepare. That was compromise when Mom left. True, It’s a little awkward, telling Pippy, the head elf, I need to take a break from icing gingerbread houses to finish my physics paper. And yet somehow, we make it work. We leave December 26th for the states, and we reappear as usual, and no one has to know. We tell them we go to the Caribbean, which I find kind of ironic considering the temperature difference.

But now things are changing. Mom says I’m growing up; Grandpap says so too. With our family, what we do with our future is almost always the same: we choose to live at the North Pole and help out in the workshop, living out the eternity under Christmas magic and making toys for children all over the world.

But like I said, I’m not normal. I want to go college. I want to stay in America. Mom says she isn’t sure if she’s okay with it; I know Grandpap definitely isn’t. I’ve tried talking to some of the other elves, particularly one of my best friends, Julie, but even she doesn’t have any suggestions. I’ve also been (trying) to get a boyfriend— we’re not really official yet, but he wants to spend Christmas with me. Julie seems excited to meet him... which did make me smile. But I haven’t brought up the issue with Mom yet. We’ll see how that one goes.

For now, it’s the night of December 1st, and it’s my junior year of high school. My laptop under my arm, my Starbucks peppermint hot cocoa in my hand. Now is really the time to tell Grandpap I want to study and raise a family someday here, where I see my future home... but as the magic sleigh appears in the night sky, and his eyes sparkle with wonder as he yells “HO HO HO!” and stares directly at me and Mom... I’m not sure if I can do it.

The golden sleigh skids onto our grass. The reindeer begin nibbling away at the carrots Mom starts handing them.

The jolly old man looks at my face, and his eyebrows knit with concern. Darn it, he can always tell when something’s wrong.

I take a deep breath. “Grandpap,” I say, “We need to talk.”