I’ve spent the last two weeks re-reading the entire Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud Montgomery. It was a childhood favorite for me, but it’s been probably thirty years since I last read it. I’ve enjoyed renewing my friendship with Anne, Diana, Gilbert, Marilla, Matthew, and all the other Avonlea inhabitants. I’ve giggled like a girl over Anne’s antics. I’ve smiled at her long, elaborate speeches. I’ve sighed over her girlhood dreams. How I have missed her, and yet I wasn’t even aware of it.
It is good for the soul to go back and revisit old friends such as this. I think it’s also enlightening to re-read childhood favorites. I remember how I felt, what I thought, what I wanted when I read Anne’s story the first time. I come at it now, older, a woman rather than a girl, mother of a girl myself. It’s a different perspective. There’s nostalgia in that. I miss the girl I was when I first read these books, but re-reading brings that girl back to me. Maybe that’s a large part of why I have enjoyed reading them again.
The Princess never made it very far into Anne’s world. It didn’t interest her. Neither did the Little House series of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I will admit, that hurts a bit. My daughter doesn’t see what I saw. She would much rather read about vampires, ghosts, mysteries, and such than the simple life of a late-nineteenth century orphan girl in Canada. Sigh. Harry Potter, Katniss Everdeen, and Tris Prior are the heroes of her books, her time. I wonder if there will ever be the same interest in the old classics, the old friends of stories of the past.
Reading Anne of Green Gables has been soothing. It takes me back to a simpler time, a simpler me. I’ve needed that in the insanity of the last few months/ I strongly suggest, when life gets crazy, revisit an old friend. It will definitely bring some peace, and I’m sure, more than a few smiles.