So long, Potter, it's been a good run!

Tonight will be the official end to something that began on a whim so many years ago. And I'll probably get a little emotional about it. But oh well. Let me tell you about it quick.

From the hour my daughter was born, my wife and I read to her. Whether she was listening or not, we read to her. Board books, newspapers, cereal boxes ... We read everything to her.

And when she was about 7 or 8, I remember picking up the first book in a series that was getting pretty popular. It was called "Harry Potter and the  Sorcerer's Stone." I started reading, and kept reading, and read some more. And by the time the seventh book came out, and she was more than capable of reading it herself, I read that book to her, too. By the time I was done, I'd read every word of that series out loud to her.

We'd watched the kids in that series grow up, laughed with them. When book six came out, Emma and I attended a book release party at the old depot in Stillwater that, pardon the pun, was magical. We pretended to be wizards at home and slung spells at each other. Together she and I assembled the Lego version of the Hogwarts castle. She bought the Bertie Botts Every Flavor Jellybeans, action figures, coloring books. She was Hermione one year for Halloween (which was a little sad because most people didn't know what she was until a pair of teenage girls pulled her aside and knew exactly what she was and started asking her about Harry Potter.) She constructed her own Marauder's Map.

I was a puddle when I read that last page and closed the book, not because the story was so compellingly sad, but because I knew it was over. This special experience Emma and I had shared, all those memories we'd made, all the highs and lows, all that time I had her undivided attention, those times when Harry was about to be killed and I could see her listening to my voice, riveted. It was all just over.

The films have been an added bonus. They never brought the same level of engagement. But they've been so much fun, and they've continued what she and I started so many years ago.

As I write this, I'm about to head out the door of the Free Press, get into my car and head up to the mall to meet the family at the theater. We're hitting the 6:20 p.m. showing of the final film. And when that's over ... it's really over.

If you're there, try not to laugh or stare at me. I'll be the guy in the corner refusing to let go of the young woman (my daughter,) and refusing to let go of something I know I can never get back.

But it's been a good run. Thanks, JK.