After much deliberation, David decided that anything was better than his crummy town, and if
it was all some kind of practical joke, he be laughing with them.
"Dad..." He began, "I..I want to go!" It came out in a whoosh of breath. There he had said
it.
"Well, then!" His father said exitedly,"I will send you off to your grandmother's house at
once!... Hang on a sec, I'll write a letter.." He started fumbling for a pen, then stopped
and gave David a long, thoughtful look. "Well, go and pack, then!"
David's room was quite small and quite average, just like David had thought he was.
No longer would he be just the average Jewish kid next door. He was unique. He was special.
He was going to live with a grandmother he had never met before...
Who was he kidding? He couldn't be a wizard! There was no such thing... It was all an
elaborate plot to get rid of him. He heard the door opening.
He ran downstairs, his meagre possetions and clothes stuffed hastily into a duffel bag.
His mother was a tall, browned haired woman. Her large nose seemed to somehow - fit - her
unusual face. She had tilted, violet eyes that seemed to sparkle in the lamplight.
For a while, she justed looked at him, as if remembering him how he was on this day,
imprinting a photographing memory of him in her mind. His mother always made him feel
special.
"Well, I guess I always knew that this day would come..."
"Mom, don't. Just don't." He said desperately, only now truly believing that it was all
real. His mother would never lie to him.
A tear slid down his mothers cheek and he felt his own face grow wet.
"I love you!" He said fiercely and his mother bent down to take him into her arms.
"I know." She breathed into his ear, then kissed his forehead.
"You only leave tomorrow, though."
One more night, he thought. His father ruffled his hair, and he felt truly loved.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The landscape flickerd past his train window. He was on his way to London, to his
Grandmother, Isabella Cohen. What will become of me, he thought, just before sleep overtook
him in the bumping, jolting train.
He awoke with a start just before the train pulled into Kings Cross. He got off the train
and looked for an old woman holding a sign with the words "David Cohen" on it.
He looked and looked, but could find no one. He was being jostled this way and that and
eventually found a bench.
Almost everyone was gone and he was staring glumly at nothing, when sodenly an old lady
in a bright pink dress POPPED into the empty place into which he had been staring.
"Wha...Who are you?" he said, his jaw dropping.
"Isabella Cohen," She said with a grin, "and you, I assume, are young David."
He just sat staring.
"Well, aren't you gonna give your gran a hug?"
He got up and did just that.
After a long hug, Isabella stood back to examine him.
"Why, you're the splitting image of my late husband, may he rest in peace."
David felt as if he had just sunk neck deep in warm water; a plaesant tingle ran down his back.
"Well, first stop will be the Leaky Cauldron and a nice, hot bath."
David did not know what the Leaky Cauldron was, but a bath sounded wonderful.
"Shall we?" She invited.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
it was all some kind of practical joke, he be laughing with them.
"Dad..." He began, "I..I want to go!" It came out in a whoosh of breath. There he had said
it.
"Well, then!" His father said exitedly,"I will send you off to your grandmother's house at
once!... Hang on a sec, I'll write a letter.." He started fumbling for a pen, then stopped
and gave David a long, thoughtful look. "Well, go and pack, then!"
David's room was quite small and quite average, just like David had thought he was.
No longer would he be just the average Jewish kid next door. He was unique. He was special.
He was going to live with a grandmother he had never met before...
Who was he kidding? He couldn't be a wizard! There was no such thing... It was all an
elaborate plot to get rid of him. He heard the door opening.
He ran downstairs, his meagre possetions and clothes stuffed hastily into a duffel bag.
His mother was a tall, browned haired woman. Her large nose seemed to somehow - fit - her
unusual face. She had tilted, violet eyes that seemed to sparkle in the lamplight.
For a while, she justed looked at him, as if remembering him how he was on this day,
imprinting a photographing memory of him in her mind. His mother always made him feel
special.
"Well, I guess I always knew that this day would come..."
"Mom, don't. Just don't." He said desperately, only now truly believing that it was all
real. His mother would never lie to him.
A tear slid down his mothers cheek and he felt his own face grow wet.
"I love you!" He said fiercely and his mother bent down to take him into her arms.
"I know." She breathed into his ear, then kissed his forehead.
"You only leave tomorrow, though."
One more night, he thought. His father ruffled his hair, and he felt truly loved.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The landscape flickerd past his train window. He was on his way to London, to his
Grandmother, Isabella Cohen. What will become of me, he thought, just before sleep overtook
him in the bumping, jolting train.
He awoke with a start just before the train pulled into Kings Cross. He got off the train
and looked for an old woman holding a sign with the words "David Cohen" on it.
He looked and looked, but could find no one. He was being jostled this way and that and
eventually found a bench.
Almost everyone was gone and he was staring glumly at nothing, when sodenly an old lady
in a bright pink dress POPPED into the empty place into which he had been staring.
"Wha...Who are you?" he said, his jaw dropping.
"Isabella Cohen," She said with a grin, "and you, I assume, are young David."
He just sat staring.
"Well, aren't you gonna give your gran a hug?"
He got up and did just that.
After a long hug, Isabella stood back to examine him.
"Why, you're the splitting image of my late husband, may he rest in peace."
David felt as if he had just sunk neck deep in warm water; a plaesant tingle ran down his back.
"Well, first stop will be the Leaky Cauldron and a nice, hot bath."
David did not know what the Leaky Cauldron was, but a bath sounded wonderful.
"Shall we?" She invited.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------