Apparently I’m not quite finished talking about Little Women.

Yesterday, I wrote about the ending I’d change. Today, I’m realizing the book changed me in ways that have nothing to do with who Jo ended up with.

When I first read Little Women, I expected a story about four sisters growing up. What I didn’t expect was for it to stay with me long after I turned the last page.

The lesson that has stuck with me the most is that happiness doesn’t always look the way we imagine it will.

Growing up, I think a lot of us picture life unfolding a certain way. We imagine who we’ll become, the people who will always be beside us, and the dreams we’ll eventually achieve. But life has a way of taking unexpected turns.

The March sisters each faced their own joys, disappointments, heartbreaks, and challenges. Their lives didn’t unfold exactly as they had imagined, yet they found ways to keep moving forward. There was something comforting about that.

I’ve always connected most with Jo. She was independent, creative, determined, and wonderfully stubborn. She had dreams that reached beyond what society expected of her, and I admired that she refused to give them up just to fit someone else’s idea of who she should be.

I’ll probably always wish Laurie and Jo had ended up together. I still think they had a chemistry that was impossible to ignore, and a part of me will always imagine an alternate ending where they found their way back to each other years later.

But as much as I wanted that ending, I’ve come to realize that Little Women isn’t really about romance.

It’s about family.

It’s about growing up.

It’s about discovering who you are.

And it’s about learning that life rarely follows the script we write for ourselves.

As I’ve gotten older, that lesson has become even more meaningful. Life has taught me that people leave. Plans change. Hearts break. We experience loss we never saw coming. But it has also taught me that hope doesn’t disappear just because life turns out differently than we expected.

Sometimes the most meaningful stories aren’t the ones with perfect endings. They’re the ones that remind us imperfect lives can still be beautiful.

Maybe that’s why Little Women has remained one of my favorite books all these years.

Not because everything turned out the way I wanted.

But because it helped me understand that life doesn’t have to.