Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents.

I can't recall the first time I read this sentence.

I must have been nine or ten, maybe. Somewhere amidst my dysfunctional, constantly uprooted childhood, I discovered Louisa May Alcott's opening words to Little Women.

My relationship with this novel (and with the amazing character of Jo March) has been one of the few constants, one of the rare friendships that has survived my childhood.

I am grateful to Louisa and the wonderful March family that became my imaginary surrogate clan, whose holiday dinners were the ones I wish I had.

This book is never far from my nightstand. And as Christmas 2007 approaches, Marmee's girls will allow me to curl up with them once more.