It's both a happy and sad one today, kids. On the one hand, the mail man is going to bring my copy of Deathly Hallows. Hooray! On the other hand...the mail man is going to bring my copy of Deathly Hallows. Boo. That means after I read it, Harry Potter's adventures are over. I'll never again spend a summer morning waiting breathlessly for the mail man. I'll never again read a Harry Potter book for the first time. I'll never again wonder how it all ends and whether or not Harry dies, whether or not Dumbledore is really gone, whether or not Snape is a good guy or a bad guy. Since Ainsley is spending THE ENTIRE WEEKEND at Mamaw's (go away for a week, and the grandmothers knock themselves out wanting to spend time with the little one) I may have all the answers by this time tomorrow. The magic will be over.
I am going to try to make the best of it. It is an absolutely gorgeous day here in northern Kentucky, and I plan on slathering my pale self with sunscreen and heading to the deck to soak up some rays (safely; I've already had cancer once.) When I spy the mail truck, I will run out and grab my treasured book and begin the final journey. I will try my best to savor it and soak up every moment and prolong the end. But I know me; I am, after all, a person who slammed down The Road during a car ride through Georgia. I am a fast reader and go through books I like the way that Japanese competitive eating champion goes through hot dogs (or did, until he got arthritis in his jaw and got soundly spanked by the American kid.)
It's the end of an era. Endings are always hard for me. It is with a heavy heart that I go on with the very last Harry Potter Day.
Gotta go; methinks I hear the distant whine of a mail truck...