25 years ago, my sisters and I went to the film, Little Women, just before I was engaged. We decided to go to the newest version together this week. Now the group included sisters-in-law and daughters we could not dream we would have all that time ago. Our group became divided by a storm, and half of the women stopped at a different theater to watch the movie rather than risk the icy roads. That night, we had an epic text exchange among all of us, discussing the movie, the acting, the actors, the screenplay, and which characters we see in ourselves. The movie brought us together, and that felt sweet. In twenty-five more years what will our family be like? What will we have accomplished by then?
I don’t have Jo’s temperament, but her writing caused a lot of introspection for me. The ache to write is real. I feel it when I see someone’s published work, when I drive by myself, when I look at my collection of books on writing, and when I allow myself to make a wish. So, this year I will write something every day, whether it’s a blog post or private journal entry, a small story, or a memory. This year I will be a writer.