Books and stories are my lifeline. From “Green Eggs and Ham” as a 3-year-old to “Pride and Prejudice” as a 24-year-old, the worlds authors create completely astound me. For me, not much can compare to the feel of a page between my fingers, the smell of the paper and the words written upon it. When I am lost in a story, I am just that – lost in thought, captivated by the words and the pictures they form in my head.
When I first got my hands on “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” it was love at first word. Through Hermione Granger, J.K. Rowling showed my 8-year-old mind that it was okay to dream, to read, to write. I could be strong, smart and adventurous. I didn’t have to try to fit into a pre-determined mold. I just needed exactly who I was – a little girl with her nose stuck in a book, who had big dreams, big ideas and a big heart – just like Hermione.
“It’s about what girls want to be, what they’re told they should be, and how they feel about who they are. I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin.’ [. . .] Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.” – J.K. Rowling
Though I never received my letter of acceptance from Hogwarts, (I’m still waiting Professor McGonagall) I didn’t need to physically attend that castle full of wonder and magic to learn from it. I simply need to turn the page one more time and Hogwarts will always be there, welcoming me home.