What I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up

Jo March.

No, really!

I have always had a love for classic novels. I read them all as a teen, Little Women, anything by the Bronte sisters, Jane Austin novels, and my all-time favorite book, The Secret Garden. I loved reading about rolling English countrysides, large stone manors and forbidden romances. I used to dream of being the heroine in Wuthering Heights or being Jane Eyre herself. I read Pride and Prejudice at least twenty times (it was required, but by then I had read it at least a dozen times) and have seen EVERY movie version.

There is something intriguing about the March sisters and their mother living on their own, being independent, sitting in their parlor discussing things that ladies did not discuss back then. I loved that Jo was so free-willed and had such a strong spirit. She was rambunctious, tom-boyish but still had that soft feminine side. She still fell in love. She still had someone break her heart. She was constantly getting herself in trouble just by opening her mouth (sounds familiar). She had a devotion to her family and a love for books. She cared about others and put them first. Despite her silly behavior she still managed to grow older, fall in love and be happy. Her charitable spirit appealed to me.

Sounds crazy, but I wanted to be like her. Fictional or no, she still had the very essence of the woman I hope to someday become. I was a spunky girl, always in trouble from what I said (or did not say). I was sent to spend long days with elderly relatives and help them clean their homes and listen to their stories. I cared for my family and I still attempt to put them first. I did manage to grow older, fall in love, become more mature and be happy, despite my silliness. Miracles do happen.

Fictional or no, I am not so different from Jo March.