So of course as winter nears I caught a thought of the story of the little match girl. When I was young I always imagined she was me. That I was out in the cold with no one to care about me, and that I'd just die there thinking warm and lovely thoughts.
It's truly morbid I know.. really. I just find it so familiar, and beautiful, and sad. Much like a lot of things I guess. I could spend days thinking of all the familiar and beautiful and sad things in winter time. All the great and happy and still moments I've spent. They all seem to gang up on me and hang over me and find me when ... ever they want. Winter has always been the most sentimental time for me. It breaks my heart and makes me believe in things.
I hope you are all having a very merry.. warm and cozy... love and laughter Winter season :)
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.