I just finished watching BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. Abigail and I started it last night, forty-five minutes from the beginning, knowing how long the TV miniseries is. We continued watching it tonight, but by the end Abby had left and Daddy had joined me. When Elizabeth declared that her feelings towards Mr. Darcy “were in fact, quite the opposite” of what they had been been, daddy and I were holding hands, both swelling with satisfaction in the climax of the fictional story. I love that I have a father who appreciates how wonderful Jane Austen, L.M. Montgomery, and Louisa May Alcott are. It is amazing to be able to share my enjoyment of such beloved stories with my father and I'm so grateful.