Here's my post...
July 15th, 2.40am
I'm not really sure how I feel. Not pained, but really unhappy. Like I'm supposed to be moving on with the world (again). But I feel like I'm left behind. Like, no matter how long I live, Harry Potter and the magic it has brought me will always be on the forefront. As important as my husband. As important as those lost.
I will be faithfull to these years, well into a second decade of memories interwoven with magic and adventure. Harry Potter taught me how to dream. Harry Potter taught me how to find myself. Years ago I never believed anything so wonderful could come to an end. And as I raised my wand at the final moment, I still couldn't believe it. There is so much yet to explore and learn.
Most of you know a great deal about my life. But in the middle of poverty, when I was 10, I was gifted the first American print of Sorcerer's Stone by a traveler in a coffee shop. And while sitting in the backyard of someone else's house, I read it over and over, made a wand, practiced my spells and waited for my letter. And I got the first of every book after that, my only gift of the year. It was my escape, my life. And still I fantasize about Harry Potter. 13 years later. My love of the magic and peace it has brought me will never end.
I'm not really sure how I feel. Not pained, but really unhappy. Like I'm supposed to be moving on with the world (again). But I feel like I'm left behind. Like, no matter how long I live, Harry Potter and the magic it has brought me will always be on the forefront. As important as my husband. As important as those lost.
I will be faithfull to these years, well into a second decade of memories interwoven with magic and adventure. Harry Potter taught me how to dream. Harry Potter taught me how to find myself. Years ago I never believed anything so wonderful could come to an end. And as I raised my wand at the final moment, I still couldn't believe it. There is so much yet to explore and learn.
Most of you know a great deal about my life. But in the middle of poverty, when I was 10, I was gifted the first American print of Sorcerer's Stone by a traveler in a coffee shop. And while sitting in the backyard of someone else's house, I read it over and over, made a wand, practiced my spells and waited for my letter. And I got the first of every book after that, my only gift of the year. It was my escape, my life. And still I fantasize about Harry Potter. 13 years later. My love of the magic and peace it has brought me will never end.