Here's an article that touched me so. It brought back memories of book characters I've loved, outgrown and let go of. The Cat In The Hat and Winnie The Pooh. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Encyclopedia Brown and Ramona. James and the insects that dwell in his giant peach. I only hope my kids would know them and love them as much as I did when I was young and unfolding.
Like everything else in this world, in fiction or in reality, I grew up and changed.
But I'm holding on to Hogwarts. I don't think I'm ready yet to let go of Harry though I'm smitten and bitten by Edward Cullen. Harry is Harry. It will be a while till I keep my HPs in a closet to be forgotten. No, I won't even sell them because I hope that my kids would discover its magic that only JK Rowling could wield and harness.
She pulled me back to believe in fantasy once more. When I wrote to her in 2000, she answered back (at least, via Scholastic) and sent my students letters and photos for us all. She unlocked a door in my mind and unleashed again that untamed sense of wonder. She pushed me to discover Tolkien and CS Lewis; Funke and Zusak; Gaiman and Pratchett. And my reading days and nights were never the same again. How could I relegate her and Harry in a dark closet all too soon?
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