Dear Jo March,
Would show you the world we’ve built, even if it would break your heart to know you lived then, and not now. This world with antibiotics. This world where scarlet fever is unheard of. This world where you could run down the road stride by stride with Laurie, hair pins flying, and nothing less would be expected. A world where your struggle to be published would be taken as seriously as any man. I wonder, could you survive knowing you missed it by a century or two?
The two of them sit on the porch
basking in the sunlight
letting their toes explore the first
frost-bitten mud of spring
Talking about life and death and sex
and little Mika's school play
So you want to talk about the meaning of life? There are many people telling you what your life should mean. More importantly what your time should be, because what is life except time and consciousness? Some people say your time is money.
Today it snowed for the first time this winter. We had classes but you woke up early, so of course I did too.
"Let's skip today," you said. "This day is too special to waste on classes."
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