This post, though incredibly dramatic, contains some of the deepest feelings my soul can muster. If you don't think you can handle that, then by all means do not read on.
This past Friday, I went to the theatre for the last Harry Potter movie. It was tragic.
I bawled.
Loud.
At one point in the movie, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt sorry for everyone around me, because their frequent sniffles were no match for my wail. I cried through the last hour of the movie.
When I got home, my eyes were so puffy I could hardly see, but I felt as though I had my emotions in check. I went into my room to find Stephie, and we looked at each other and started crying all over again as we related to one another our feelings about what we had just witnessed. "You feel it don't you?" she asked. "The feeling that's it really is over?"
Holly came in and asked how I liked the movie. A normal enough question. "I loved it!" I blubbered. Then I hid my face in my hands, and rocked back and forth on my chair sobbing. "Are you crying because it was good or because it was sad?" she asked.
"Both!"
Holly left the room looking worried.
I've been on the verge of tears for the past three days.
It's not as though I'm obsessed with Harry Potter {okay maybe a little}. I always waited until everyone else was done reading the books before I read them. I have only gone to one midnight showing. But I can honestly say that I love Harry Potter.
I read the first book when I was ten years old. After I read it myself, my dad read it to me. Until the books on tape came out, no one had any idea how to pronounce Hermione's name.This may be silly to you, but it's as though I grew up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Every year was a new adventure. Something new to think about when I didn't want to think of my young pre-teen/teenager troubles. Then the movies came out and provided a visual aid to our childhood imaginations. Everything about Harry Potter was absolutely magical. The wonderful world of Harry Potter became my wonderful world.
And now it's all over.
My childhood has officially ended. It ended when the credits rolled on the last film. This is something I feel deeply inside that I can't quite explain. It's heart-wrenching. The Harry Potter Era has lasted over half of my lifetime. Eleven years. And now it's time to move on. Harry Potter will still be loved. I will still read the books from time to time and watch the movies, but that feeling that existed during these eleven years is quite over. If you haven't read the books or watched the movies {or enjoyed them *gasp*} you more than likely do not understand at all and are wondering why I'm blabbering about something that doesn't really matter. But I suppose the point is that it mattered to me. It mattered to me a lot. It's as though those characters were real and dear friends. {That's what happens when you read books you know. You form attachments.} I was part of the Harry Potter generation. It's something bigger than itself. It's something grander than I'm sure J.K. Rowling ever imagined. But it was beautiful.
It was beautiful.
