That's Random: Goodbye, Harry

So last night around 10 o'clock, we finally finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

(I realize that any of you who care probably did the same thing on, oh, July 22 or so. But you try reading a dense, 759-page book aloud to two squirmy, easily distractable kids -- one of whom insists on practicing his human beatbox skills and dance moves from his chair while you attempt to read, and another who launches into uncontrollable fits of giggling upon hearing British slang like "snog" and "mental" -- and we'll see just how long it takes you.)

Both of my kids were simultaneously horrified, embarrassed, and a little freaked out when I burst into tears and couldn't continue reading during a key climactic sequence (don't worry, I won't spoil anything for the two of you out there who may still be slogging through it), and again at the conclusion of the tale we've followed for the better part of the last decade.

Today, I still feel verklempt -- sort of weepy and spent and a bit mournful. And how could I not? Aside from the inherent drama of the story itself, these are characters my children have literally grown up with.

I think we started reading the first book together (glossing over the scariest parts) when Austin was in kindergarten. His preschool-aged sister, though by no means old enough to be exposed to such a sophisticated and emotionally fraught book, nevertheless refused to be denied, clambering up on the bed with us to hear about the strange and magical world that Harry and his young friends inhabited.

Since then, I've read every page of all seven books aloud to them, spending untold hours snuggled under the covers or piled up together on the couch as they listened (sometimes raptly and sometimes not) while the epic narrative unfolded. I'm pretty sure that just hearing the words "Harry Potter" or seeing the books or an image from one of the movies will forever trigger a picture to form in my mind of my children in pajamas and pigtails.

So yeah, I cried as both the series and our experience of it drew to a close last night. It was strange and sad to say farewell to the fictional boy who has been such a constant presence in our lives these last eight years, and to think about his journey from a lost and unloved child to an honorable and heroic young man -- all the while gazing at my own little boy and pondering his transformation from a tiny, smooth-cheeked thing who snuggled up to me while I read to the handsome, strapping adolescent who was now sitting across from me. (Granted, the one who was now sitting across from me making obnoxious beatbox noises with his mouth -- but still.)

So goodbye, Harry Potter, and thank you.

I think I have to go and cry again now.