Dear Mr. Potter,
Before I go off on a ramble, I just want to say thank you. You changed my life.
When I was about four years old, my brother and I were playing outside with a dog that lived down the street from us. My brother, the genius that he was, decided to throw the large stick that he was holding into the bush. Of course, the dog thought that it was time to play fetch, so he ran to get the stick. He picked it up in his mouth and turned around to bring it back and whacked me directly in the mouth. I was four years old, I couldn’t duck, and I didn’t know what to do. One of my teeth fell out, there was quite a bit of blood, and I developed a fat lip from this ordeal. Being a four year old, I obviously started crying and went back up the house. After being “patched up”, I was lying in bed when my brother came in and started reading the Philosopher’s Stone to me. I don’t remember how far we got into the book, but I just know that I was hooked from then on.
It took me awhile, but I managed to get my reading up to the level where I could read Harry Potter on my own by Grade 1. I haven’t stopped reading them since this. Almost literally. But the point here is, you gave me some meaning to my life. I’ve learned so many lessons from these books about a boy wizard. I’ve learned that, it’s okay to be different, and it’s OK to break down sometimes. I saw so much of myself in the books, but the thing is…I’m not sure if that’s who I was before, or if reading the novels shaped who I am today. I have a hunch that it’s the latter.
I’m not entirely sure what my life would’ve been like if that day when I got whacked in the face hadn’t happened. Well, aside from not ever having a fat lip, and being much sadder that is. Something tells me that there would have been many bad things happening had I never experienced the novels. So I’m pretty confident in saying that…Harry Potter saved my life.