I want to remember. I want to remember childhood. I want to remember childhood me.
But I don't really. And it has bothered me for years.
I was walking through Marc's today when I saw this display of "Porcelana"creme .
I was told a story at some point about being just a young pup and walking around and repeating the name of this creme over and over again. So I asked my mom for the story...and then my grandma - the daughter my great grandma, Eleanor Polk. Eleanor Polk who was affectionately coined "Honey" for life...by me. Honey, the woman I spent a considerable part of my toddlerhood side by side with.
In one version of the story I repeat "Porcelana. Eleanor. Porcelana. Eleanor."
In the next version of the story it's just the "Porcelana".
There's debate on whether Honey used this lotion or whether at 2 years old I audibly snatched the word up from the 1980 televersion commercial for the creme. In one version, I'm told I "became obsessed" with the word.
But no matter which version of the story I choose to remember, it is a bit endearing to me that I spent the earliest years of my life "obsessed" with words...paying close attention to their sounds and plucking them right off of the television...and how I now spend the adult part of my life "obsessed" with the sound of words and make a career out of putting them together for the pupose of advertising.
Maybe if I really want to know the childhood me I just have to examine who I am today.
I miss my great grandmother. My Honey. My, Porcelana Eleanor. And today I'm thankful that among all of the chaos in Marc's...there was one itty bitty retail cue that took me back to my childhood and my time with her.
Today I got to unshelve another little piece of me.