Post birthdays, post Harry Potter

Okay, okay, the birthdays of my three darling children should get first billing but what kind of fantasy lover, book freak, Harry Potter-isseur would I be if I just skipped over the penultimate Harry Potter moment. (Don't worry, there will be no spoilers here) -- Book Seven is here, I've devoured it, loved it and...I'm sad.

Maybe this will further define me as the quintessential book geek but quite a few of my low emotional spots in life have centered around the end of beloved books. Don't get me wrong, I am a semi-normal person with those more typical sad times (you know, death, loss, depression). But, looking back, I can tick off a handful of periods in my life when I was in a funk because I'd been abruptly booted out of a beloved world...An existence that I felt had existed so enormously, so vividly, and then suddenly, the pages ran out, the characters were snatched away and an entire world vanished. It's hard when you so fully suspend your disbelief that you are immersed in a story, a place, a character, and then you lose it. Yes, I can and do re-read. I've re-read a few books more than a dozen times but there's no recapturing that initial experience and wonder. For me, it's the ultimate exploration.

Now, I've read The Deathly Hallows, and it's over. I can't go back. Like I warned, your geek-dar is probably raging, but my feelings of sadness are genuine. Go figure...