It was the summer of 1998, and I was a freshman in high school. I visited Boston to homestay at my father's friend's house. I've known Mr. and Mrs. Goddard, my hosts, since I was 10 years old. Because they are older than my parents, they treated me like their grandchild.

During my stay, I worked weekdays at the library nearby as a volunteer. On weekends, the Goddards took me to various places that amused me. Orchard House, a historic house-museum owned and operated by the Louisa May Alcott Memorial Association, was one of the places the Goddards took me to.

We drove for a couple of hours to Concord that day. I remember the nice weather and the excitement I felt knowing that I would be stepping into the actual place where Alcott wrote her greatest novel, "Little Women," based on Louisa and her sisters' coming of age. The author was 35 years old when she was wrote this masterwork in this house, from May to July 1868.

When "Little Women" was published, it was a national sensation. And Alcott, a former Civil War nurse who suffered from the effects of mercury poisoning throughout her adult life, became a celebrated author. Alcott would also become active in the women's suffrage movement, writing for "The Women's Journal," and going door to door to encourage women to register to vote.

According to a University of Virginia website devoted to "Little Women," the book "brings to life vividly the life of New England during the nineteenth century. A life that was tranquil, secure, and productive."

When the Alcott family was actually living in the Orchard House, the site encompassed 12 acres of apple orchards, probably appealing to Amos Bronson Alcott, father of Louisa, who considered apples the most perfect food. That is why Amos named his home the Orchard House.

"Little Women" is one of the books that I used to read over and over when I was in elementary school. My favorite character, Jo March, the second of the four sisters in "Little Women," is said to be modeled after Louisa. Jo is a bright and sophisticated girl, and a talented writer. In the novel, she is always challenging, full of courage and passion. I have always wanted to be like her. Jo March was the first American juvenile heroine to act from her own individuality; a living, breathing person rather than the idealized stereotype.

I was curious about Louisa, who once was a tomboy, just like Jo. Was Louisa May Alcott really like Jo March? I was going to look for the clue to find out whether Louisa had really been Jo's model or not. At the site, 30-minute tours were offered every half hour. After standing in the waiting room for a while, the Goddards and I went in the house with another bunch of visitors. Visitors could walk through the study, kitchen, dining room, parlor, and private chambers of Louisa and May, Louisa's younger sister.

The tour guide told us there have been no major structural changes to the building since the Alcotts' time of residence, and that approximately 75 percent of the furniture there was owned by the author and her family. The rooms looked very much as they did when the family lived in the house.

My image of the Alcott's family home was coming alive in front of my eyes - a big fireplace in the study, an old soapstone sink in the kitchen, wooden bookshelves in every corner of the house. I was busy imagining the people who used to live in this house, and was only half-listening to the tour guide, who kept rambling about how great Amos Alcott was.

However, when we were led into Louisa's chamber, I started to pay attention to the tour guide again. After the tour, I bought myself a new copy of "Little Women" and a packet of six postcards with color pictures of the Orchard House and a portrait of Louisa May Alcott. Because I wasn't allowed to take any photos inside the house, I wanted to take home some kind of image that I could look at when I went back home to Japan.

In the car on the way back, I took out the postcard with the black-and-white portrait of Louisa from the packet. The great author looked young and somehow familiar. She wasn't some stranger who lived in some faraway country anymore.

I know now that she actually existed. More than that, I had just visited the house where she wrote a book that meant so much to me when I was growing up.

Just before I put the postcard between the pages of my new copy of "Little Women," I thought I saw the portrait of Louisa smile at me.