Chapter Text
“I’m like a bird Jo, like dear little Pip here, and I don’t mind it really, I don’t mind my cage, it’s cozy, I understand it, it’s familiar, home… I don’t want to fly Jo, not like you or Meg or Amy, not like Laurie, and I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about it Jo, I’m happy here, at home, just like Pip.”
Josephine March absentmindedly looked up from her quill and paper and watched the little yellow winged canary alight and perch on her sister’s finger. The canary had seen better days and though Beth cared for him well, there always seemed to be one feather out of place, making the little dear fellow look quite absurd.
“But Pip does fly Beth and one day you will too, and if not, I’ll be your wings, we’ll fly off to some place you’ll feel better at, maybe a trip to the sea or—.”
Beth’s shaking hand gently touched Jo’s and with effort she shook her head, needlework set aside, too heavy to hold “But you see Jo I have no intention of going anywhere, not of leaving home, and I can’t see myself as a wife like Meg or Marmee, or a writer like you, or an artist like Amy, and I can’t see myself with children or anything, I like it here at home with Pip and Marmee and Father and the cats and my piano. I don’t want to travel or fly away Jo. And I- I know what the doctors say Jo, I know, and I can be content with it, and I can now admit at first that I was afraid, but not anymore Jo, not anymore.”