Readers, I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m a Muggle.
I grew up in the generation that was totally infatuated with the Harry Potter series. From what I can tell, we all still are. We loved the idea that once we turned eleven, we’d be whisked away to a boarding school and taught about a whole new magical world. In the meantime, we practiced spells and tried to apparate.
Somehow, my parents didn’t understand that my eleventh birthday was a HUGE DEAL. I was taken after school to play roller hockey with my dad, and then home to finish homework. Huge, sobbing crocodile tears ensued, because I was just Hayley…just Hayley. (watch the movies again, you’ll catch on)
This struggle is totally universal. Everyone I know waited for a Hogwarts letter, and we are all still waiting. Is this an American thing? Maybe the laws are different in the UK, and in America we needed to be 16? 18? 22? Maybe J.K. Rowling thought it was FUNNY to get our HOPES UP and tell us that we could all be QUIDDITCH MASTERS and that MERMAIDS WERE REAL!?!?!? (P.S. My college had a quidditch team for a while. They had practices and competed all over the country. We will never, ever give up hope. Our dreams are shattered, Rowling.)
It’s fine now. I’m an adult, and adults live in reality. I’m proud to say that I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much. But if any Hogwarts administrators happen to be reading this, you are more than welcome to whisk me away from my perfectly normal life.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”
I’m not really sure how to tie in this last picture, but it was way too perfect to leave out, so:
I really did my best with that one. Here’s hoping that you find your magic!
**For more gorgeous hand lettering by Apurva Bhatt aka @indigo_eleven, visit her on Instagram here or Etsy here.**