I’ve recently, not for the first time, found myself reading Anne of Green Gables, and Anne of Avonlea, and as I’ve digested the words and experiences of dear Anne (spelt with an ‘e’) I’ve pondered what it is about Anne that keeps me coming back to her.

I think perhaps, it is because Anne is the best and worst parts of who I was a child. The sense of wonder and idealism, of wide eyed want of a better world to live in, a wonder of the world I already lived in. But yet, there is that sort of stubbornness, that sense of being right even when you’re wrong.

That Anne girl has been quite the companion to me, reminding me that innocence can be valued and that idealism is not criminal, and that our purist thoughts should be protected instead of cast aside. Anne has taught me about vulnerability, about not neglecting oneself, about being true to who I am and my interests in spite of the naysayers.

So thank you Anne, for being the best friend a girl could have growing up and remaining with me into adulthood.