Unless you've been under a rock, the last Harry Potter movie has been released.
I have been both eagerly anticipating and dreading the end of this magical tale because it's not just goodbye to the series, but a lingering goodbye to my son's childhood.
Harry and Scott grew up together. When Harry discovered he was a wizard, he and my son were the same tender age. We anticipated each new book's summer release as eagerly as Harry awaited his return to Hogwarts School.
When his brother turned six, Scott could not wait to introduce him to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Each morning, Scott would read aloud to his brother as we traveled to school. I enjoyed the read aloud almost as much as his brother.
We had to share "Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince." Scott would keep the book with him during the day, and I would read it at night after he went to bed. When he finally discovered I was reading it too, he made me promise not to read past him. I got so caught up in the story that I finished the book three days ahead of him and never breathed a word.
We have always gone to see the Harry Potter movies together. When Scott went away to college, we planned our premiere of the each movie to coincide with his visit home.
It's fitting that Harry's final chapter is coming two weeks after Scott turned 21. They both reached the end of childhood together.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Bicycle Dreams
I am dreaming of bikes these days. Summer memories are filled with the fun of riding bikes around the neighborhood.
My first two wheeler was a classic black and gold bike with a coaster brake that I was thrilled to receive from my cousin, Colleen. It was the dead of winter when we brought it home, and so I was forced to wait for warmer weather before I could try it out.
As kids we spent hours on our bikes. We played gas station and pretended to drive to far off cities on our "motorcycles", or ride the range on our "horses."
That bike was eventually passed down to my sister, and I spent the next few years riding "boys" bikes, with sissy bars and banana seats and gears that I didn't quite know how to use.
When I turned 13 my parents gifted me with my first brand new ride- a pinky-orange ten speed. I hated the color, but loved the ride. My girlfriends and I often rode our bikes past a boy's house or packed a lunch and took off on the bike trail that wound itself around the perimeter of our neighborhood.
When I moved to Florida, the bike gathered dust in the garage as I traded it for cooler transportation, namely a car. By the time I went away to college my parents had purged the garage and attic of our childhood and along with some precious items, like my junior high yearbooks, the bike was sold at a garage sale.
When I approached forty, I decided to purchase an expensive mountain bike. I had visions of the family biking along mountain trails, but it never happened.
I saw a classic Schwinn in a bike shop one day and realized I still love to ride a bike. I want to return to my cycling roots. So I bought an old fashioned two wheeler with a soft seat, regular handlebars, and add a bell and basket.
I love my new bike!
My first two wheeler was a classic black and gold bike with a coaster brake that I was thrilled to receive from my cousin, Colleen. It was the dead of winter when we brought it home, and so I was forced to wait for warmer weather before I could try it out.
As kids we spent hours on our bikes. We played gas station and pretended to drive to far off cities on our "motorcycles", or ride the range on our "horses."
That bike was eventually passed down to my sister, and I spent the next few years riding "boys" bikes, with sissy bars and banana seats and gears that I didn't quite know how to use.
When I turned 13 my parents gifted me with my first brand new ride- a pinky-orange ten speed. I hated the color, but loved the ride. My girlfriends and I often rode our bikes past a boy's house or packed a lunch and took off on the bike trail that wound itself around the perimeter of our neighborhood.
When I moved to Florida, the bike gathered dust in the garage as I traded it for cooler transportation, namely a car. By the time I went away to college my parents had purged the garage and attic of our childhood and along with some precious items, like my junior high yearbooks, the bike was sold at a garage sale.
When I approached forty, I decided to purchase an expensive mountain bike. I had visions of the family biking along mountain trails, but it never happened.
I saw a classic Schwinn in a bike shop one day and realized I still love to ride a bike. I want to return to my cycling roots. So I bought an old fashioned two wheeler with a soft seat, regular handlebars, and add a bell and basket.
I love my new bike!
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