“But he’s not real,” she said.

“I know,” I started, “but he was real in my life. He was my childhood, my imagination, and my safe haven. That world was my home when I didn’t want to be home.” I shrugged with a shudder as tears clouded my eyes. “I couldn’t possible thank him enough for saving me and being there for me when no one would. He didn’t look like me, didn’t speak like me, didn’t act like me but he was my family. That might sound crazy but he made me feel like family.”

She looked at me, raised her eyebrows with a shrug, and walked away. I turned back towards the window and leaned against it. The rain thundered outside. I hugged the book in my hands that started it all.

I smiled, “Happy birthday Harry Potter.”

I fear I don’t have much time left then I fear that I do.

I don’t want him to become a memory.

I have fallen. I have fallen and I continue to do so each day. I have not learned how to keep my feet steady. I have not mastered the ability to stand upright. I have not taught my legs to stop shaking. But I will try and try and try.

I will forever want to be a flower.