Since it was 1997, I’d take in the perfectly English silhouettes and skin tones of Prince William and Prince Harry and silently wonder if their clothing was as itchy or uncomfortable as it looked.

I remember turning the pages in awe at their ability to make contact with a ball while on horseback. (Surely they were straight from a fairy tale.)

I’d also stare at images of Princess Diana and feel my heart, soul, stomach and mind ache. She had been such a light in an often dark world. She had also been the inspiration for my latest not-so-age-appropriate haircut.

The way she looked at her kids made me wish I could talk to Wills and Harry and tell them about how I lost a parent too. Maybe we could comfort each other while eating haggis. Or I could tell them about my favourite American delicacy – Chicklets.

I would always consider buying a royal themed People Special Edition magazine, but here’s the thing – they were $20 and I knew deep down that the closest I’d ever get to the royal family was at night when I spooned my commemorative purple Beanie Baby with the white rose on its chest.

Or while listening to Elton John sing Candle In The Wind on my Walkman. I was American. William and Harry were from the United KINGDOM.

For some reason I thought that there was some unwritten rule that there was no place for an American in the royal family.

Instead I’d opt for the special edition Leonardo DiCaprio themed magazine. He may have also been out of my league, but geographically speaking – I had a little bit of a chance, right?

For many years, I continued to grow up thinking that Prince Harry wasn’t an option for me. Not even for a friendship. At 21 I settled (JK!) for my Australian husband, Paul, and now ten years later have two kids:

Daisy, who’s almost five, and Axel, who’s three. When Daisy was born, I remember thinking I had given her such a gift by marrying an Australian. Maybe by only being half-American she’d have a chance for some sort of relationship with Prince George.

Most people know where they were when Donald Trump was announced as the POTUS, but I remember where I was when Ms Meghan Markle married Prince Harry. I was white girl wasted in a 1990’s thrift store bridesmaids dress watching that glorious ceremony with some soul sisters on Mortimer Street.

As we watched that monumental and historical moment in life take place, I felt a wave of confidence wash over me. With the (not so) simple act of their union, I knew that it’s still a possibility for me to be part of the royal family.

Obviously, the romantic ship for me has sailed because I’m madly in love, blah blah, BUT Daisy, a born and bread Mudgee Girl, has now had that door swung right open by my true QUEEN: Meghan Markle.

Aside from her taste in men, there’s a lot I love about Meghan – she’s a fierce feminist, compassionate soul, joke-making goddess and award worthy actress. I couldn’t think of a better role model for my child to have in her life.

With that being said – I think it’s obvious that I’m going to be taking a little trip over to Dubbo in the near future.

News broke that Harry and Meghan are coming to visit and I simply cannot wait to find away to inhale the same air as them. And you best believe I will be buying the special edition Women’s Weekly of their visit.

Summer Land is a writer and author of Summerlandish: Do As I Say, Not As I Did. Her next book, I Now Pronounce You Husband and Expat is out soon.