The end of an era

One evening, about thirteen years ago, my mom and I stopped by her friend's house to visit. Her friend had a daughter who was a few years older than myself and although she seemed really nice, I was painfully shy as a child and thus refused to socialize. My mom's friend knew that I was an avid reader so she had her daughter find me a book to read while the adults chatted. Ashley disappeared into her bedroom and emerged a few minutes later holding a paperback novel.

I grabbed the book, turned to page 1, and started to read. And read. And read. I was hooked.

The title of that book was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

(Now do you see where I'm going with this?)

One or two hours later, Mom was ready to go home and I was already nearly halfway done with the book. There was no way I was putting that book down until I had finished it, so I asked to borrow it. I had read the entire thing by bedtime that night.

Before long, I owned my very own copies of the first three Harry Potter books. I read them over and over and over until they looked like I had owned them for years, rather than months.

The night before July 8, 2000, I had my very first experience with an HP-style midnight release. Nine-year-old me waited in line at Viewpoint Books in the Commons Mall until 12:01 a.m., when I could finally get my hands on a copy of Goblet of Fire. Its sheer size came as a pleasant surprise to my friend Allison and I; I vividly remember her making the comment, "This is going to put a dent in my bookshelf!"

I found it impossible to sleep until I had finished that book. Even after coming down with pneumonia the next day and being hospitalized briefly, I couldn't put that book down. Of course, it came to the ER with me. It took me less than three days to read all 734 pages.

The next decade of my life passed in a wonderful blur of midnight book releases and movie screenings (I haven't missed a single one), Harry Potter parties, and book re-readings.

{Oh, the book re-readings... I tried to keep track of how many times I've read each book but it was hopeless. I know I've read the first three at least 20 times each. Books four through seven aren't far behind that count. I can recite the first couple pages of Sorcerer's Stone from memory. Normal? No.}

My point is, I honestly don't remember what it feels like to not have a new Harry Potter book or film to look forward to.

Kari and I before DH1

Unfortunately, in approximately 36 hours, that feeling will be thrust upon me. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2, hits theaters tomorrow night at midnight and although I am SO FREAKING EXCITED LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA to see it, I also feel as if a little part of me is dying inside.

Over half of my life has been spent laughing, crying, agonizing, triumphing, lamenting, learning, and growing with the characters created by Jo Rowling. Even though the books will always be there for me to read, and the movies to watch, the release of the final Harry Potter movie remains bittersweet to me.

"I don't think the end of the story happens tonight... because each and every person not just in this square, but each and every person watching around the world who will see this film and who will have followed these films over the last ten years will carry this story with them through the rest of their lives and it will affect what they do."

-Daniel Radcliffe

"The stories we love best do live in us forever so whether you come back by page or by the big screen, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home."

-Jo Rowling