End of an Era

Last night, I went to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part II.

And now I am so, so sad. 

I grew up with Harry Potter. I loved the books from the start. When I moved from my elementary school to a completely new one, I had with me (old school, pre-movie) Harry Potter paraphernalia, such as a Hogwarts house shirt and a lavender backpack that I remember particularly well. I had Harry Potter wall posters, only they were illustrations in oil pastel, similar to those found on the book covers (how creative books are before they depend on movie elements to illustrate them!). I had extra books on Quidditch and magical creatures. 

Of course, it all got even more popular when the movies came out, especially at my school. The movies were good, though, or at least they represented the world as well as a movies could at this time.

That world helped shape me. It gave me an outlet for a need that I still can't quite explain -- it was beautiful, absolutely fantastic, and inspiring. 

Now, I can feel my heart clench again with the knowledge that it's pretty much concluded. There's a depth that the Harry Potter saga managed to reach that I needed to express -- a sort of grieving over the limitations of this reality and the expectations it imparts on all of us. 

Naturally, I've adjusted to reality. But every once and a while I remember the painful confliction I've always had between what I could imagine and what was possible. It's a strange sensation I've had since I was very young -- a sort of sense that I never really fit into this box of "real." I've never been completely out of it, but I usually wind up just on the verge of normal. Or, maybe that is normal. It's hard to tell what other people experience in their deep subconscious. 

All I know is, there's a sorrow to it, like a longing that isn't quite like desire, but rather isn't too far off from homesickness or nostalgia. It's almost like an agelessness, a part that remembers what it is to be a child even while it remembers that childhood has long since past. I used to be really afraid of that as a child -- sensing that someday you have to give up that need for wonder and exuberance and devil-may-care joy. 

Harry Potter, the conclusion of your epic adventure has successfully reminded me of the passing of my childhood. I thought I had long since come to terms with that, but I suppose I never really will. 

Then again, I'm kind of glad for that. 

End note: I am definitely reading Harry to my children.