Little Women

 I had daydreams about being a March girl. Not Beth clearly. Jo. The one who wrote and chopped off her hair and directed the other girls in plays in the cluttered attic of their lovely but somewhat disheveled home. 

I also had this image of having daughters. Daughter that would wear messy brains and run around barefoot and would smirk at the establishment. They would do their own thing. Sneak off to read and laugh and walk around picking flowers in our overgrown garden. 

Most of that has come true. Of course our messy garden is smack in a neat and tidy neighborhood. Sorry to our neighbors. And I have a son thrown in the mix. But they all are perfectly unkempt without looking unfortunate. They run around barefooted. They smirk at the ways of the world and march to their own beat. 

Charlie has bonded so much from being home with Welles for school. She is growing into an incredible and living older sister. I imagine Welles toddling into her room in the next year or so and crawling into Charlie's bed. Whispering secrets and giggling. 

Then I imagine how the three of them will stick up for each other, protect one another and prepare Welles for what will come. Just like my sister has done for me.