“‘Nox,’ they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wants went out

“‘Nox,’ they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod. Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.” My father would take a deep breath. “End…”

“No, Daddy, please just one more chapter!”

“We promise we’ll clean our room every day this week, please, one more!!”

“…of paragraph.” Two sighs of relief.
“Don’t do that to us,” either my sister or I would always say indignantly. My father would smirk and continue reading. All too quickly, he would reach the real end of the chapter, and it would be time for us to go to bed. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard that dreaded sentence; “End…. (snaps book shut) of chapter.” Sometimes he would be as involved in the story as we were, and he would indeed read another chapter, or even two. But my favorite part of the day would always come to an end, sooner or later.

One would probably think that from the beginning of this essay, the rest would be about how my father has instilled a love of reading in me, n’est-ce pas? I could write a whole 500 word essay on that and more, but then I wouldn’t be mentioning anything else my father has done for me. He has instilled in me an appreciation for literature and music, and both of these have had a great influence on my life. His genius piano playing has always inspired me to play as well (even though I am not that good); and when I was little, he used to direct the church choir basically everywhere we went, and he would bring me along to practices, inspiring me to join the church and then the school choir in my later years. He speaks French fluently, and that is the reason that I took French in school (I also wanted to take German, which my dad also speaks, but they weren’t offering it the first year I could take a language).

But the thing about my father that has inspired me most is my love of learning. My dad is constantly reading about linguistics (in which he got his Masters, and what I now want to major in), science, history, whatever. He reads and learns without end, and I share with him that love of learning. I just want to get out there and learn all that I possibly can; for there is so much in this world that I don’t know that I could know, so much I have yet to discover.

I feel rather bad that I haven’t mentioned my mother in all this, because I feel like that is suggesting she hasn’t done anything for me. Nothing could be further from the truth. She has always been there for me—calling doctors, singing me to sleep, drying my tears. But my dad has always inspired me to be the person that I am today, and I know that my father will support me in whatever I do. He has never been interested in making me do something that he thinks I should do and be good at, but he will encourage me to do that which I love. He doesn’t really nag me about earning good grades because I do that on my own, not out of fear of my parents, but to make them proud. The influence my father has upon me will last my entire life, and I hope to instill in my children the same values in my children as my father inspired in me.

End…of essay.