I've always known I loved stories. From a young age I'd gather a towering pile of books and take them to my mom to read to me, before I knew how. There were a couple of years there, however, when I forgot about the magic reading brought to my life. And I suppose that is why I didn't begin reading the Potter series until I was 18, please don't judge me. Yes, I was that person that discovered the movies first, okay permission to judge because I judge me too. But it was because I was so enticed by those movies that I was inspired to read the books in the first place.

I'm really glad that I didn't start the series until later in life, and I'm really glad that I spent my college years with those books. I think that had I read the books as a child, they wouldn't have had the same impact on my life. Yes I could’ve reread them in college, as so many of my friends have done, but nothing beats the first time you read a book you fall in love with. The meaning it can relay to you is so much more powerful. Life brings its unique set of experiences and the longer you live, the more you learn. We all identify with different characters in the books we love, and we all identify with different parts of Harry. I think, for me, I identified with his grief.

I had never had to confront death and what that meant until losing a parent. After growing accustomed to the numbness of that pain, I began to read Harry Potter. It was the first thing I could do. I read and read and read; I got lost in a world of magic, where happiness and pain existed mutually. Harry was surrounded by an incredible world and by incredible people, yet grief is something he deals with his whole life. As silly as it sounds, reading those books really did save my life. In a small way, they did their part in helping me deal with the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing and coming to terms with how they could exist simultaneously within me. The Potter books were there for me to escape into as my whole life changed. As I navigated what becoming an adult truly means, as I discovered more about who I am and what I want for my future; and as I've continued to navigate through my pain and realized it is just as much a part of me.

So I hope you had a wonderful birthday Harry. I hope you had a wonderful birthday too J.K. Rowling, sorry for being a little late on wishing you congratulations. Thank you for existing and thank you for understanding me, even when I couldn't. Thank you for letting me know that what I feel and what I think is real and valid, “Of course this is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?”