So I dropped out of NYU. I only had a partial scholarship and the thought of paying back hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loans was killing me! Grants my arsh! Who needs school to be a writer anyway. (I guess I do have that incommon with Jo from Little Women but that's about it.)

My apartment in Chelsea wouldn't  be ready for me for a few days. My new roommates said something about needing to get rid of one of the flatmates... In the meantime I got myself a room in the Ramada just off the Long Island Railroad at Rockville Center. Along with our money packets was a note warning us the 5.000$ was for a life emergency or just because you TRULY needed it. Running away to New York City didn't seem like either of those. But since I'm practically homeless It'll give me plenty of time for reading.

I unzipped my thrifted duffel bag. Once I latched the door to my hotel room I chose a journal at random. It was dark blue with raised silvery stars all over it. It had a magnetic flap closure. Mom's love for journals was not a secret even if her super powers were.

Dear Future Reader,

So you've chosen to read today's entry. Christmas Eve, 2001. I'm in labor right now. How can I write in a journal you may ask? How can I not write in a journal! My second daughter will be born before midnight tonight. I can't wait to meet you Jo. (She had highlighted the messages especially to me in neon blue!) Blue is my favorite color...

I slammed the book closed. This was too freaky. We'd split up the books randomly. Not by year or even the color of the cover. I'm sure it's just a coincidence... Or is it? What is going on mom? I opened the journal and continued reading.

When Reggie said we should spend Christmas at the cabin I told him the doctor said not to travel 6 weeks before my due date. Reggie scoffed and said, "Travel? We're not going on a Learjet. We're driving to the cabin. He insisted Meg have her first white Christmas. Welp, Meg has that for sure. We got here the day before yesterday and it hasn't stopped snowing since. There's gotta be two or three feet out there. It's hard to tell with the drifts.

Mom, why didn't you tell me I was born in a snowstorm?

Reggie helped Meg build her first snowman today. She's only 2 years old but she's as smart as a whip. With her long black hair and rosy cheeks she looks like a Norman Rockwell picture. The snow is falling so soft and steady. Her red peacoat is practically white. When I look out the picture window she holds up her red mittens beckoning me to join them.

I can't. I'm sorry cupcake!  I haven't had the heart to tell Reggie I'm in hard labor. If I do he'll try and shovel out the jeep. The roads aren't safe. We'd never make it to the hospital. There's a ditch with our names on it.  Let him have his perfect Christmas. It's better this way.