We read plenty of newer book, some good, some not-so-great, but again and again, my daughter comes back to my childhood favorites, The Secret Garden, the Little House books, Heidi and now my beloved Anne. Anne was a springboard book for me, Anne read poetry, Tennyson, in particular, so I read Tennyson. In reading Tennyson, I moved onto Wittman, and far more poets. I read and read, I loved the romance of it all, I loved the art in the books, I loved the time period written about, I loved escaping from my dull suburban life.
I see my daughter excited in the same ways. Good literature can lead to whole new worlds, both real and imaginary. I see her imagination growing, as her understanding of history and culture also grow. I see her laughing as Anne dyes her read hair, and she will cry when Matthew dies, just like I did. And I see her maturing, as she can experience though the books joy and sorrow, while she is in a safe, loving home, but at the same time is being prepared for her own sorrows and joys.
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