early mornings on scotland coast
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That July morning was like any other: a loud noise awoke Mary – her mother playing guitar and singing loudly, to wake all the children up from their sleep. She did it most mornings, and the other family members got used to the sound of her songs downstairs, which could be heard all throughout the house. Mother always used to say that waking up to music makes the whole day ten times better, but it surely did not seem that way at eight in the morning, as Mary struggled to open her eyes, and the squirming of her younger brother in the bunk bed on top of hers didn’t help. But soon the sounds were too much to bear, and the girl awoke.
She used the restroom, got dressed, and ran downstairs, the family’s dog, who always slept in the children’s bedroom, going along with her. Their feet and paws mixed together on the stairs, and the fiery couple almost sent each other flying down, as they descended to the living room.
Alicia – Mary’s mother – sat in her usual rocking chair in the far corner of the living room. It was a corner of the home that the kids adored, and anytime the family gathered to sit there, all four of them would fight for the place at the rocking chair’s feet, just to feel mother sink her fingers into their hair, and murmur jokes about how father looked scary in the fire light. All those that lost, would be left sitting with Matthew Littoreus – father – who was, to say the least, a less desirable seatmate, because of his quiet and reserved nature.
Alicia sat still strumming the guitar, but as Mary and Brody – the dog – came down the stairs, she finished the melody, and carefully set the instrument down, leaning it against the wall, as if it was some kind of sacred treasure.
“Good morning, whirlwind. What took you so long?” the woman’s deep melodic voice reached Mary. “It’s almost as if you forgot what day it is…”
A hint of a smirk lingered on mother’s lips as she said it, and Mary’s ears immediately perked up at the words. What day was it? God, did she really forget? She has such great memory–
“My Hogwarts letter!” Mary exclaimed loudly, so excited, that any safety precautions in the cluttered living room, where every second object was fragile, and could be broken with one wrong move, were forgotten. She charged for the kitchen, which had an open entrance from the living room loudly exclaiming: “Is it here?! Is it here?!”
In the kitchen Matthew was already preparing breakfast, sour milk pancakes were sizzling in the pan as chaos emerged. The other kids who had to wait in line for the restroom, as Mary reserved the privilege of occupying it first as the oldest, seemingly heard the commotion downstairs and, without wasting a second, their curious heads peeked out from behind a wall separating the kitchen and the living room.
Everyone watched as Mary practically teleported to the kitchen exit to a terrace, on which owls would always land delivering letters, and wait until someone supplied them with their pay – treats.
But this time the eleven-year-old didn’t even worry about sticking her palm into the sack of owl treats that rested on a counter beside the door. She immediately opened the terrace door wide and marched for where an owl was already perched up on a worn-off chair with a letter tied to its leg. With empty hands Mary immediately headed for the letter, earning a few clacks of the beak towards her, but in the end she got the letter, and her younger sister came rushing with a handful of treats for the messenger.
The envelope was not preserved, and immediately ripped open without even checking the recipient’s name or address, but everyone knew who it was for, and they let her have her moment.
With a way-too-dramatic gasp and squeal, that could only mean good, the girl jumped up and down happily. The rest of the family emerged onto the terrace knowing smiles already plastered onto their tan freckled faces.
“I’m going to Hogwarts!” Mary proudly and loudly announced, acting as if it was ever a question of yes or no, and was the first to run over to the family and hug everyone tightly, one after the other.
That morning they celebrated it all with pancakes. Of course, the day had been long awaited, practically the two whole months of June and July, the calendar in the kitchen being marked with a countdown of Mary’s that she eagerly updated every morning. Still, reminiscing about the letter and actually holding it were two different things, and even though both made the soon-to-be first year student go into a spiral of excitement, the latter was much more effective. The very next day Mary started packing her luggage for the trip to Hogwarts, even though there was still a month left until it.
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