I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to the nature of the passage of time. Recently an old addage has become truth for me. It’s been said,
The older one becomes, the faster time passes.”
When I recall the summer days of my childhood, time seemed to stretch far beyond the limits of the rising and setting of the sun. There was a quality of spaciousness within each hour that allowed my imagination unbridled freedom to explore my inner and outer worlds.
An avid reader, I recall how my girlhood passion for books afforded the luxury to embrace and know the characters within the pages. They became my cherished and blessed companions.
One of my most cherished possessions is a Christmas gift from my parents, a Grossett and Dunlap, 1947, illustrated edition of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved classic, Little Women. The pages have yellowed and the dust jacket disappeared years ago, but Marmee, Jo, Amy and the others are still as vibrant and alive to me as when I first read the story in 1957, when I was ten. There have been new editions of Little Women since that time, and the book continues to inspire hearts and minds. READ MORE