Emily's Easter Sunday
A “How I Spent My Summer Vacation: I became a Girl” Gaiden
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman

-4-
Advice?

I took a deep breath as I walked into the small bathroom, I was starting to think the wine was getting to Aunt Flora, first she was talking about the Easter Bunny, and now she was talking about Santa Clause. Did she think I was five or six or something? Bloody Hell, I was sixteen!

Then upon the counter I noticed a small basket. I drew a little closer to inspect the contents of the basket and much to my surprise I noticed the basket was filled with various types of lotions, shampoos, and body sprays! I'm talking about high end stuff here. Like stuff you could only find in malls. And then only certain shops in the mall carried these kinds of brands. This was not Wal-mart or Dollar General fare, this was Bath n' Body and Victorian Secrets fare!

Then I noticed that attached to the basket was a small folded note. I slowly started to unfold the note and then my eyes fell on the text.

Dear Ms. Anderson,

First allow me to apologize for the delay in delivering your stocking stuffers. Most stop believing in us when they turn twelve. So you could imagine my surprise when your aunt told me that you still believed in us along with the Easter Bunny? I was so shocked that I almost spilled my coffee!

Now, I've never really shopped for a teenage girl. I myself don't have children, and our internet connection is spotty at best here at the North Pole. And well teenagers seem to change their minds every other day. It's quite troublesome really to keep up with what's 'Cool' and 'Trending' . I don't even know if those words are still being used or not. Words like trends tend to go in and out of fashion.

But I know a few things don't change, and that is most teenage girls want to look and smell their best. You're at that age when boys have stopped becoming torments, where they use to chase you around the schoolyard with sticks with buggers attached to the end, dip your braided pigtails in inkwells, chase you with worms and toads. Now I'm sure they are offering to carry your school books for you, are holding open the doors for you and maybe even sending you little love notes.

I'm quite sure you've started to notice now that certain things are changing in your body, and I'm quite certain that those same boys who use to torment you by chasing you with sticks with buggers attached to the end, dip you braided pigtails in inkwells, case you worth worms and other nasty things are starting to notice the changes too.

It's called growing up dear. Soon I'm sure you will be going to dances, learning the newest dance steps, wearing sparkling gowns and soon, very soon the old church bell will chime and by the altar you will stand dressed in all white surrounded by women who lived out those stormy years of growing up with you.

Your aunt told me you lost your mother to cancer a year and so ago. And I know that must have  been very hard on you, losing a mother is always hard, it is even harder on a girl because the mother in her teenage years becomes more than a mother.
She becomes a mentor, a teacher, a guide, and a steadfast friend. She is the one to hold you tightly through your first major break-up, to take pictures of your first formal. She is the one who prepares you for your wedding, and helps you adjust to the second stage in all women's life, motherhood.

I've only intended this letter to be a short letter, instead I fear I've gone off on a tangent. Emily Hannah Anderson, the few things I've heard about you tells me that one day you will make it. You just gotta believe in yourself as you believe in me and my husband. And one day, when you hold your own baby tightly in your arms you will understand all I've told you.

My final word of advice, don't rush into things. Father Time is an old friend of mine, and he has a funny way of making one day blend into the next, one day your playing with barbie dolls and the next your going to prom with your girlfriends and then your finishing highschool, and then before you know what going on your getting a college degree and then your getting married and then your cradling a babe in your arms.

Then your baby is either playing with barbie dolls, or action men figures, then she is either being chased by boys with sticks that have buggers attached to the end of them or is being chased with worms or toads or is having her pigtails dipped in inkwells. Or maybe it is the one chasing girls with sticks with buggers attached to them, or dipping the pigtails into inkwells.

Anyway you get the picture, live moves in cycles. So take my advice and relish and cherish each day, and remember those times when things got tough. Because it is those times that make the woman or the man and transform them from boys to gentlemen and from girls to ladies.

With love,

Mrs. Martha Clause.

“Wow..” I said folding the letter up. “This has been unreal..” I said looking at the basket. “I guess I should write her a thank you note.. but there is one problem.” I said musing a little outload. “There is no return address.. I mean It's not like I could hop on her Facebook account and send her a message or ping her on Discord, God I bet they're still using Skype..” I paused. “OMG Maybe they're still using American Online and MSN Chat?! No wonder nobody believes in them anymore, they're still in the digital stone age! 

“Emily, I don't hear water running.” I heard Aunt Flora say through the closed door.

“Getting to it!” I called out.

“Five minutes, if I don't hear water running in five minutes, I'm going to come in and start your bath myself! And I'm going to wash you myself! You're sixteen years old, you're too old to have your auntie bath you!”

“OMG!” I said blushing, becauseif I knew Aunt Flora I knew that was no threat that was a promise.

“Five minutes Emily!” Aunt Flora added. “Well four and a half minutes, you just spent thirty seconds swapping words with me.”

“I'm going! I'm going!” I called out as I tucked the letter safety back into the basket. I don't know who wrote that letter, the hand writing  was not Aunt Flora, and it looked like it was written with an old fashioned fountain pen. Like the ones you had to fill with ink. And the paper looked fancy, like it was not the standard paper you could buy in bundles of one hundred sheets down at the Dollar Tree, or Dollar General or Fred's Family Dollar or Wal-Mart or Office Supply it looked almost like parchment paper.

Like something you expected an owl to carry in its beak. An Easter Basket from the Easter Bunny, a gift basket from Mrs. Clause. What was next ? A snow white owl appearing in my bedroom window carrying a scroll saying I'd been accepted into Ilvermorny!

“Ms. Emily Hannah Anderson.” I heard Aunt Flora whisper through the door. “Two and a half minutes remain before you suffer a fate worse than death. If you don't want me to bathe you and put you in footie pajames I suggest you get in the shower before those two and half minutes expire.”

Well, that settled it, I could muse on that later, right now I needed to get into that shower!

End Chapter.