Tag Archives: Little Women

JAMIE’S BLOG – YEAR 9 – DAY 320 :: tell your story – 46 days to go

15 Nov


There are 46 days left of The Promise 365! Tonight I celebrate stories.

I have to admit, I have had my doubts about stopping this blog and ending this wonderful, crazy, daily adventure. Even though I know, in every cell of my being, that this is near completion and it is time for a happy ending. But my mind questions things. Mabe because this blog is like a limb of mine. 

Which brings me to today. We visited the Louisa May Alcott house in Concord, Massachusetts. I was in awe of the brown, colonial home, preserved so sweetly I expected Louisa to walk into the parlor and greet us, herself. Instead, we had a lovely young docent who guided us through the home site. She shared stories of the Alcott family that I wasn’t aware of and the transcendentalist beliefs they honored (including educating women!). 

But it was Louisa and her story, Little Women, that brought the family wealth and stability. The family was friends with many great thinkers of the time and influenced by Emerson, Waldon, and even Nathaniel Hawthorne, of House of Seven Gables fame. Ironically, we just toured that house last weekend. 

What I didn’t know was that Hawthorne spoke of women authors disparagingly, calling them “ink-stained Amazons” who were “without a single exception, detestable,” even forbidding his daughter from writing. 

Despite this, Louisa wrote and hew work chronicling life in the Concord house was it’s own shot heard round the world. Her works created wealth for her family and literature dreams for many little girls to follow. 

Today, while we were walking through Louisa’s house, I heard her whispers in my head. “Tell your story,” she said. “Share your words and touch the souls of others.”

I believe that is what I have done over these past nine years, and I hope Louisa is proud.  There is part of me that finds comfort in knowing words never end and stories live forever. 

Trust me!
More tomorrow.


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Day 37: a love letter to the books of my youth

6 Feb

Tonight continues my commitment to more love and less fear this year.  For February, I am writing a love letter each day.  Tonight is dedicated to …books!

Dear Books,

Or, rather, I should say, the books of my youth.

You are still on my mind. After all these years, I cannot forget you, your people, your struggles, your silliness, your fairytales and all the lessons in between.

It’s like nary A Wrinkle In Time between then and now.  From when I was just The Little Engine That Could, to a contemporary of Ramona Quimby, Age 8 — to even now, officially belonging to a group of Little Women, your stories have stayed with my heart.

Even after all the changes I went through over this past year, taking care of my head, heart, body and soul — you are still with me!  Even after I changed my diet to Green Eggs and Ham and banished coffee (which took more magic than The Wizard of Oz to accomplish!).

Yes, I gave up my most favorite, sugary, chocolate dessert (mochas!) but I will always remember Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.  These days, I get my sweet tooth from something that looks more like James and The Giant Peach.

Sometimes, with all these changes in my life, I just wanted to scream, Are You There God It’s Me Margaret?  But, I know, in the end, my head, heart, body and soul have benefited from all of this self-care — even though, at times, it did feel like The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

As I write this tonight, Pup sits next to me.  I never thought I could love a dog more than Clifford, The Big Red Dog — but I do!  In fact, I can’t even think of Where The Red Fern Grows  without tearing up inside.

Someday, I will have a Little House On The Prairie, or in a city, or maybe, in the suburbs.  Until then, I will keep moving The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe from one place to another, being more than happy living out my true love story — one that is even better than Anne of Green Gables could have imagined.

So dear books, this is my love note to you.
I thank you for the stories, the laughter and the tears.  Because you were the ones that taught me this:  our very own story is all we really have (happily ever) after-all.


P.S. I’m going to go take a bath and read a good book.  Goodnight Moon!

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