“I’m going on an adventure!” My upcoming trip to see Cursed Child.

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I’m so incredibly excited.

Last October I decided to do something crazy.  With days to spare, I signed up for a list that would allow me to purchase Harry Potter and the Cursed Child tickets. I received emails counting down the days–and then hours–until I’d be sent a link where I could get in a virtual line to purchase tickets.  I toyed with the idea that I’d purchase a ticket, but certainly didn’t plan on actually purchasing one. I just liked to dream. It was nice to think that I could go to London and see this planned play if I wanted to. Well, when tickets were actually on sale, I decided to be spontaneous.

I bought the tickets.

Harry Potter has been a part of my life since I first picked up The Sorcerer’s Stone in fifth grade at my private Catholic school. Which, now that I think of it, was rather odd considering how Harry Potter is sometimes banned on account of the witchcraft in it. In any case, I’m thankful it wasn’t banned in my small classroom. I was eight years old when the book was first published, but by the time I discovered it the third novel was out. It was exciting to start reading the books when I was Harry’s age. I read them cover to cover, often staying up late to finish them, regardless if I had school the next day. I eagerly waited for the next installments.  It’s an experience that I shared with countless other people as we read and grew up with Harry Potter. It’s (probably) an experience that will never be replicated in my personal life again, and as such, I feel like there will always be a slight hole that I’m looking to fill.

As I grew up and became an adult, I always hoped that there would be a continuation of the world that J.K. Rowling created in those first pages of Harry Potter. Harry had three children, after all, why couldn’t there be a story about one of them? Or Teddy Lupin? Or Scorpius (unfortunate name aside)? Harry Potter is just something that I couldn’t–and still can’t–let go. It’s as much a part of my childhood as going up to the lake is. Harry Potter helped form a huge part of my identity as a reader.

So with the first announcement that there was going to be a sequel, my excitement was limitless. That surge of emotion when I realized I’d be able to read more about Harry was something that although I had hoped for, I hadn’t dared thought it would actually happen. When I realized it would be released as a play, I was a little disappointed. At the time, I didn’t think there would be any way that I’d be able to fly over to see it. I resigned myself to the fact that eventually it would make its way to the U.S. (at the time there was no book format announced). Now, months later, I’m structuring a trip around seeing this play.

I’m going into this play with incredibly high hopes. I just hope that it’s everything that I need it to be. I’m a little worried that my expectations will cause me to not enjoy whatever it is, but at the same time it’s Harry Potter. I feel so incredibly lucky that I get to do this. Sadly, it kind of feels like the end to an era in my life (I hope it’s not! Keep writing J.K.!), but I hope that one day there will be novels for my future children that do for them what Harry Potter did for me.

I’ll post an update–spoiler free!–once I’ve structured my thoughts about what I’ve seen.

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