A friend brought me an old copy of Little Women this fall. I am not sure when I last read the tales of those little women, but it's been at least a decade. I can hardly ever resist a book with yellowed pages and it just seemed like the perfect December fare.
I love how good books change as I age. They give me new gifts for new seasons.
Fiction can breathe perspective into my soul in a way that no straight forward lesson ever could. Marmee's wisdom, Jo's tempered passions, Amy's beauty, and Meg's sweetness all felt richer in a new way this time around.
Their stories help me see my own small story a little better.
Of course, my story is a bit different, isn't it? No little women in this household.
These little men are keeping me on my toes. Christmas break, here we come!