In my case, I noticed how my interpretations and reactions to books changed. There are a few books which I go back to when I feel scattered and need anchoring; the familiarity of the story, language and setting comfort me, acting as a security blanket. Quite simply, they renew and replenish me because I know that in the end after countless suffering and misunderstanding, the world rights itself and our heroines find personal happiness.

That is why I could never part with my copies of Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. I lose myself in the language and manners, inhaling every consonant, vowel and punctuation mark as if it were nourishment for my deprived psyche.

I remember vividly the first time I met Jane Eyre. It was first period study hall in seventh grade and I had just sat down at a table in our school's library, trying to decide what to do. It was an overcast day, and soon I heard that pattering of rain against the closed windows, drawing my eyes toward the shelves that ran along the window. And then I saw it, on the third shelf from the top, fourth range in from the left, and I succumbed to the siren's call. It was an old hardcover from the seventies, the cellophane yellowing the white, blue and black abstract print on the book jacket.

Jane called out to me, and before I knew it, I was listening to her story and could not put it down. I checked the book out and reluctantly put it in my locker, because the temptation would have been too great that I could not ignore her during class. The next few days were spent in states of agony and ecstasy. My school schedule was a major hindrance, interfering with my precious time at Thornfield and the blossoming relationship between Rochester and Jane.

When I finished, it was bittersweet. Jane left me to live happily ever after with Rochester. She abandoned me to my own devices, even though all I wanted was to remain a part of her life. As the years passed, I realized that Jane had not abandoned me, but that she decided that she would live within me, listening to my story for a change.

Obviously, the story itself hasn't changed as the years passed. However, I am the one transforming because I experience a little more each minute of the day. As I read passages, I gain a new understanding about Jane’s feelings. In no way am I saying that my life is as hard as Jane's, but I feel that I have a more mature insight than that of my 13 year old self, who wore rose-colored glasses. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the life we choose to live enriches our appreciation of everything, be it the little things or the big things.

So on that note, I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe New Year! May you enjoy everyday to the fullest and revel in the new challenges you may face in the coming months!