I used to think we were the Little Women
Louisa May Alcott wrote about
Meg was the oldest, responsible and kind
Jo was the middle child, passionate and determined
And I was Amy, stubborn and young.
Now I see each sister in myself and in them.
My eldest sister has the drive and intelligence of Jo and her independence, yet the softness of Meg, the soul of Beth. But the beauty of Amy.
The middle sibling, is a romantic like Meg and fiery like Amy, she always knew what she wanted. Like Jo she never gave up and chose what was right for her. Like Beth she finds solace in her home.
And myself..
I still bear the bluntness of Amy, her stubborn realism. But my writing is of Jo’s spirit, free and adventurous, words dancing across the page. I love like Meg does and strive to be like Beth, she appears in my homeliness.
We may not be the girls Alcott wrote of but our stories live on in my script. Our childhood selves saved away in the corners of my mind, waiting to appear on a page, preserved.
One day I’ll write us, our story, our lives
But to me we’ll always be my
Little Women.
