9 years ago (or so) my Mom said to me "sarah you should really read this book I just read. It's a children's book... (slight hesitation), but it's really good. It's called "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone". "Um. ok- sure Mom" I said. As though I was really going to read some kids' book that wasn't a classic like "The Secret Garden" or "Tuck Everlasting". But I love to read, I go through books like a fat kid through ice cream and I did need something new. So I read it, or rather devoured it. And waited with eager anticipation for each new sequel. The longest relationship I've had with a boy is the one I had with Harry.
I started the last book with the intention of making it last through the week, and of course I took only 2 days- all the while marvelling about the INCREDIBLE imagination of this author- and how she could possible spin something that was both so entertaining, imaginative and moving. It's brilliant. And I actually felt (along with the rest of the other 12 million readers) quite sad about the end. Not the ending- but rather the fact that there was an end- and no more anticipation, no more questions and no more Harry. sigh. It's always hard to say good-bye.
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