The Beach: 1869
"We could have never loved the earth so well. If we had had no childhood in it.
If it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers.
What novelty is worth that sweet monotony. Where everything is known and loved because it is known" Jo read the poem from her book.
"How great is that?" Looking up to meet Beth's eyes.
"I love to listen to you read Jo. But I just love it better when you read the stories you've written"
Jo closed the book sighing, "I don't have any new stories"
Beth furrowed her brows in confusion, "Why not?"
Looking off to the horizon Jo answered, "Haven't written any"
"You have a pencil and paper. Sit here and write me something"
Jo stuttered, "I-I can't. I don't think I can anymore"
"Why?" It was strange for Beth to see headstrong Jo so uncertain.
"It's just no one even cares to hear my stories anyway" Beth could hear the hurt in her sister's voice.
In an attempt to encourage her big sister, Beth reasoned, "Write something for me. You are a writer. Even before anyone knew or paid you." Adding sarcasm to the serious conversation, "I'm very sick and you must do as I say"
"Ugh" Jo rolled her eyes lying on her back. "Still can't believe you lied about being sick"
"Do what Marmee taught us to do. Do it for someone else."
Jo watched the sunset remembering Marmee's words so long ago.
Don't let the sun go down on your anger
Jo abruptly sat up, " We need to send a letter to Mr. Laurence. I know how to get them home."
YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters: Theodore "Laurie" Laurence/ OFC
Hayran KurguIn a homely house in Massachusetts lived 5 little women. The oldest at 16, Margaret "Meg" March, was a budding actress with dreams of an elegant warm house filled with the laughter of children and a loving husband. Next was the assertive Josephine...
