A love letter to Harry's mom

Dear JK Rowling,

So, one day long ago and far away, my mom (a reading teacher) talked about this boy who was very smart.  No, his name was NOT Harry, but they developed this great teacher/pupil relationship and even after she taught him, he visited her.  One day he brought her this weird philosophy book that was not yet available in the United States.  My mom raved about it to me but I pretty much blew it off saying something to the effect of, "I'm not reading some random British children's book because some brainiac kid liked it."

Fast forward 14 years later and  let me tell you how wrong I was and how your imagination changed my life.  Not changed my life because I wear strange colored scarves everywhere I go and carry a wand, but more like created memories for my family that will last a lifetime and for that I'm eternally grateful.

So, I was late to the Potter party.  If I remember right, I had the luck to read the first three books back-to-back(-to-back) and then had to wait, like the rest of the world for 4,5,6, and 7.  I remember the anticipation --waiting for, then getting the next book in the mail (thank you amazon.com!) and devouring each book like a fantastic meal.  I'd get close to the end and slow my pace just to savor my dessert.  Once done, I'd already be wishing for another immediate helping of Hogwarts.

I remember staying up until 3:30-4am to finish a page, a chapter, the book and my husband commenting something like "no book is worth missing that much sleep ."  I remember him teasing me while I blubbered through the emotional conclusion of each book.  Curiosity got the best of him (or maybe he was just sick of listening to me explain why this weird made-up world in a series of kids books was so incredible.)  I recall waking up at 3:45am to find he was bleary-eyed and not stopping even though the alarm would be going off in a few hours.  It's just that good.

I once scheduled a vacation then tried to cancel after realizing the next book would come while I was away; I was crazy concerned I'd not be home in time to get my copy of the book before it was spoiled for me.  I also might have waited like a stalker for my mailman the Saturday the last book came out -- I was 9 months pregnant and needed to finish with the boy who lived before giving birth to my own little girl who probably wouldn't wait for a mom who was too preoccupied reading.

I remember where I was when I finished the last page.  And I remember being so sad that this giant chapter of my life was over; Harry was gone and like me, had gotten {spoiler alert?!} all grown up with kids of his own.  I thought Mr. Potter and I had reached the end of our journey so he stayed on my shelf for a while, unmagically acquiring dust on his jacket.

Then a funny thing happened.  We got this letter delivered by owl that was from Dumbledore...oh wait, no, my bad...actually my husband, Chad, began to read the first Harry Potter book to my first daughter, not named Harry BTW (or Hermione for that matter).  Chad began reading to Paige on a fall evening in October after she had settled into her kindergarten routine.  His goal was to read every book before the last movie came out in the theater.  I thought that was incredibly ambitious and a bit of irresponsible parenting.  The last movie would come out before she entered second grade, and the themes of the book (as you, who wrote it, probably know) get increasingly more mature every year Harry attends Hogwarts.  I thought it might be better to read one book a year and for her to catch up with the movies when they were age appropriate.

Well, for once in his life, Chad was right and I was wrong.  He read every book in record time.  She had questions and some of the material went over her head, but she held onto the ride like a seeker on a Firebolt.  I loved hearing Chad read the book to her and loved their impromptu Q&A's after some lengthy sessions. There were even some late night nightmare-related visits to our bed I'll excuse.

Finally, this spring, I crept in her room on the last day of the last book and bawled my eyes out listening to her listen to the epic battle between good and evil...I can't even write that without tearing up.  It meant a lot to me...more than anyone will ever know or I can print.  It's one thing experiencing Potter's world as an adult, but watching your child live through it is something else entirely.

After every book, we enjoyed movie night with the DVD and she liked them (but like everyone else she agrees the books are soooo much better.)  After a few movies, we had to jettison her little sister off to watch something less scary, but Kate understands she will get her time for Daddy's special reading soon enough.  On an October day after she has settled into kindergarten they have a daddy date scheduled...and I'm sure they won't mind if Paige and I listen in. 

I can't believe how many more firsts Harry will make in our house, from Kate's first reading to visiting Harry Potter World at Universal. We all can't wait to do it together.

I left HP7.2 last night holding my daughter's hand, beaming through tears.  She LOVED the books possibly even more than me and enjoyed the movies too.  She brought her wand with her to the theater and held my hand the whole way through.  It is a memory I will have until Alzheimer's wrestles it out of me.  Sure, she made me go to the bathroom so I didn't see Snape die (she purposely waited for a scary part she told me afterward) but to watch her watching the screen was akin to viewing her dreams coming to life and dancing in front of her.  It was as magical a moment as this muggle will ever see.

I'm so glad for this one thing that our whole family can share.  I wish I could do it justice on the page like you Jo, and I was going to tally up the number of Kleenex boxes you owed me, but I'll happily trade that $$ for a trunk full of family memories that are seared into me like the scar on that boy's forehead.

So next time you and Oprah are sitting around burning money because you can, just remember how many lives you have been a part of, how many memories your creativity is responsible for, and how many people you truly inspired.

You are the mom of the boy who lived; and in the end, the boy who loved.  Harry Potter is loved by a bizillion (yes, I wiki'd it so I'm sure that figure is correct) and I am just one of the many, but from one mom to another, I thank you.

Love,
Laura