in which i attempt to say goodbye

14Jul11

It’s been years since I turned 18, yet I still feel like my childhood truly ends tonight.

For the very last time, I will put on my Gryffindor sweater, despite Karen’s protests of the hot July heat, and I will watch as the credits open and close on the very last Harry Potter movie.

I will always remember discovering Wizard People, Dear Reader, and falling asleep watching it on my living room floor with Moony and Prongs. I will remember the excitement I felt when I opened up my Christmas presents one year from my father, and discovered my Gryffindor sweater, along with a Slytherin Quidditch sweater and both Slytherin and Gryffindor scarves, topped off with the largest package of Harry Potter treats that Alivan’s had to offer. I will remember the bonding experience I had with my father when he took me to the release of one of the books and stood patiently beside me, despite never having read any books nor seen any movies. I will remember running around Ashley’s yard with broomsticks, pretending to play Quidditch. I will remember the subsequent squabble we had as I refused to stop reading the book while I worked at his ice cream shop. I will remember by first “boyfriend” taking me to see Goblet of Fire – not because he was a fan of the series, but because he knew how much it meant to me – and him laughing (not unkindly) as I sat with tears in my eyes during Cedric’s death. I will remember stuffing ourselves into the box seats at the movie theatre Kenny worked at for the midnight release of Half-Blood Prince. I will remember getting a text message from a friend telling me to check my porch, that they thought they saw an owl by my house, and walking outside to discover a box with an acceptance letter to Hogwarts University (I was, afterall, too old for the real Hogwarts), along with my own wand – handcarved and placed in a homemade velvet box. I will remember falling asleep on top of Deathly Hallows and waking up to discover drool all over the pages because I wouldn’t stop reading, even when I was exhausted. I will remember discovering the cupboard under my friends stairs … and refusing to drunkenly sleep anywhere for an entire summer, eloquently telling them I was “Harry Potter, bitches!” I will remember going to see Deathly Hallows Part 1 and skipping across the parking lot. And, years from now, I will remember sitting down at my computer to write this, my attempt at closure.

Most of all, I will remember all of the friends I made, solely from our mutual love of the series. Because I’m not alone. I’m not the only one who waited patiently for hours for the midnight releases. I’m not the only one who dresses up, dedicated as ever, for these events. I’m not the only one who feels like they grew up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, experiencing the same emotions and battles they did – though without the magic. And I’m not the only who sat in their room, wondering why this magical world couldn’t be real. Not only is it comforting that I’m not completely mental, but I can’t count the numbers of times that Harry Potter brought about endless conversations and started friendships for me.

To be honest, I feel bad for those who didn’t get into the series until later, or haven’t started it yet. Because they won’t know what it’s like to grow up with it. They won’t get to experience the excitement and anxiousness of waiting for the next book or movie, and the satisfying feeling when you turn the last page or walk out of the theatre. And that’s sad to me. I hope with all my heart that if I ever have children, they can have their own Harry Potter. This has been over ten years of my life, and as pathetic as it may sound, I’m not really sure what I’m going to do knowing that it’s all over.

I guess all I’m really trying to say is this: Goodbye, Mr. Potter. It has been both a pleasure and an honor. And now, as I sit here, I know that JK Rowling was right -

Hogwarts will always be there to welcome me home.

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