About a year ago, I decided to read and watch the Harry Potter series for the first time. Needless to say, I was hooked from the very first page. I fell in love with everything about Harry's world, from the magic of boarding the train to Hogwarts for the first time to finally defeating Voldemort. I had been missing out on so much all these years. But what I had been missing out on the most, was the feeling of hope that Harry's story brought me.

As I watched Harry stare into the mirror, longing to be with his parents, even for a few silent moments, knowing that it would never happen, my heart broke. As the tears rolled down my cheeks, I realized that I was not crying for Harry, I was crying for myself. I lost my mom when I was nine years old. Watching this scene brought me back to being a little girl wishing so hard that I could shut my eyes and my mom would be back like nothing had ever happened.

It was hard growing up without my mom and watching those who have their mom take it for granted when, like Harry, I would give anything for just one more second with mine.

But Harry Potter also gave me a constant reminder that she is always there with me no matter what, whether she is physically with me or not. It may not be how I would want it, but I am lucky to have had a mom, like Harry's, who loved me so much. Although, I cannot speak to mine, I am sure she would say the same things to me that Lily Potter reassured Harry; that she is proud of me and has never left my side.

Through Harry Potter, I am able to escape to a world filled with magic and adventure, while being able to connect with someone who understands how I feel, even if that person is a fictional character.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for giving a twenty-something year-old girl hope for the future and a little bit of strength needed to keep marching forward.