The title of this post probably has some sort of copyright protection on it and I’m probably not supposed to use it or what not. But it is completely relevant and I am not taking credit for coming up with it… so no harm no foul?
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is my favourite book for many reasons. The tale it tells of second chances and the depths of discovering there really isn’t a clean line between “good” and “evil” as many books and novels begin to describe has captivated me for as long as I’ve admired the series. The pages of my copy of the novel are beginning to yellow with age, the spine laced with creases and scrawls of drawings and little side notes are in the margins of the pages. My name, address and phone number are scrawled all over the inside of the front and back covers in hopes that if anything were to happen to it, it would be returned to me. This is the first Harry Potter book I’d ever touched… or read. The very book that led me to a wild love affair with reading and writing and led my imagination to believe in life outside of the ordinary. Needless to say, it is a treasure on it’s own.
When I was in the third grade, I met a good friend named Camryn Miller who pushed me to start reading the series. I was hesitant at first.. the large books and smaller font seemed intimidating and what I thought was a story of witchcraft looked less-than-appealing.. but a good amount of peer pressure can go along way and next thing I knew, I’d picked up the one that looked the most interesting to me. Of course, the one with a half-horse creature on the front.
As I pushed myself to read, I would doodle in the margins… at the beginning, not caring so much about the actual book. I would update Camryn with how far I’d gotten and that was that. By the third chapter, I found that I had been drawn in by these strange characters… and somehow, I couldn’t stop reading. They had begun to take over my thoughts and choices in actions. I began to slowly discover what the book was really about. I cared about the characters and more than anything I wanted to go to Hogwarts. My eight year old self was convinced, that I would receive my letter! (and this, Camryn and I planned and prepared for!)
That next summer, we went to see the third movie in theaters the day it came out. I remember the day distinctly. Camryn’s Dad picked me up from my house, they had gotten their tickets super early in advance and had one extra ticket for me. I said thank you a million times. They had gotten a ton of candy and I was amazed! We went to the theater in Eldorado Hills and sat near the front. I held my breath for most of the movie and it was everything I thought it would be. Wonderful. And thus, my attendance at the rest of the premiers of Harry Potter films had begun.
And thus, the story brings me to the tea leaves- or in this case- Turkish Coffee. It is a long tradition in middle eastern cultures that the left over “mud” in Turkish Coffee could be used to tell one’s fortune. Predict what would happen to them and explain what the future had in store. Much like Professor Trelawney’s Tea Leaves. Over Thanksgiving break, my grandmother gave me a set of Turkish Coffee cups, coffee, and a whateverthey’recalledthingthatisusedtomaketurkishcoffee. Anyhow, I’ve been drinking it ever since and enjoying being able to see “my fortune” in the little patterns left. Which brings the whole post to a full circle. Talons and Tea Leaves.