For the last couple of days, I’ve been in a deep flu-fog — making typing errors, not wanting to deal with work, but mostly I’ve not done much but stare vacantly at the tv, like a child.
And just like a sick child, to find comfort, I spent Saturday morning watching cartoons. Mostly to avoid our world’s horrifying and frightening current news reports and images.
But as I was flipping around, I came across a darling and familiar face from my past: Madeline!
I was never a Barbie kind of kid…she always seemed like a tart, and her Californian persona did nothing for me…still doesn’t. (I did like the packaged outfits — not for her, but someday for me.)
But Madeline was smart, sophisticated, she lived in Paris, the illustrations were beautiful and mysterious. And most of all she “she lived in an old house in Paris that was covered in vine”.
I so wanted to be Madaline…to be kind, courageous, precosious…and to have her convent uniform, her accent and especially, her yellow hat.
I always wondered why my parents and other family members did not know how much I loved Madeline?
As an adult, to make up for that loss, whenever a friend has a baby girl, I always buy her Madeline gifts.
At that young age, I knew I wanted to be considered classic…I’m still trying…is that sick?