Studio Library: The Girl with the Milk 🌼
La Lechera “The Girl with the Milk” — An Aesop’s Fable
A peek into my core identity.
Aesop’s Fable / Aarne–Thompson–Uther Index
read: A CHILDHOOD FAVORITE
rATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
❋ a kindred bedtime story
There are a couple stories from my childhood that our family lovingly references with the wrong name because we can’t ever remember the real one: this one— The Girl with the Milk, and The Where’s My Hat? book.
These books were some of many stories central to my childhood understanding of the world. This story in particular struck a chord in my little mind that I haven’t been able to shake.
La Lechera is part of a large anthology of children’s fables published by Susaeta & vibrantly illustrated by Juan López Ramón. Our copy is from the 80s, long out of print, well-loved around the edges, and written in Spanish. I will forever call it “The Girl with the Milk.”
❋ loose translation
A milkmaid was walking to the market with a pitcher of milk on her head. Una lechera iba camino del mercado con su jarra de leche a la cabeza.
She began to think that with the money she could get for the milk, she could buy eggs. Pensaba que con el dinero que le dieran por la leche compraría huevos.
She continued to imagine that chicks would hatch from those eggs, and she would sell them to buy a good pig. Siguió imaginando que de aquellos huevos nacerían pollitos. Los vendería para comprar un buen cerdo.
Then she would fatten the pig and sell it. From there, she would buy cows, chickens, rabbits, and start a whole farm… Cebaría al cerdo y, vendiéndolo, compraría vacas, gallinas, conejos, y montaría una granja…
She would earn a lot of money and have many beautiful dresses. Ganaría mucho dinero y tendría lindos vestidos.
Just as the vision reached its peak, the milkmaid tripped— and the pitcher fell and broke. Cuando más contenta estaba, la lechera tropezó y el cantarillo cayó y se rompió.
As the milk spilled out, the poor milkmaid’s dreams evaporated along with it. Al derramarse la leche se esfumaron los sueños de la pobre lechera.
The girl returned home saddened, but with the lesson that dreams require patience and hard work. La muchacha volvió a casa triste, pero había aprendido que hay que trabajar para conseguir lo que se quiere.
❋ on getting ahead of yourself
The girl with the milk knows how to cast a vision. She’s not afraid to desire things & be creative with the world she’s building in her mind. Her immediate circumstances and resources don’t limit her ability to dream beyond them.
I think some folks would be quick to dismiss her thinking as pure vanity, but I genuinely believe she’s acting on a basic human impulse: to thrive, to give one’s life more direction, to seek pleasure, to better our circumstances. And I don’t see anything wrong with those dreams, I just see myself.
❋ my patron saint of dreaming
It’s hard to put into words what this story means to me. My mom and I would cry-laugh reading this because it was so incredibly me to a T.
As a kid, I had a wild imagination and a knack for daydreaming that was beyond my control (didn’t we all). I had a reputation for dreaming way too big, too fast, before paring it down to something actually doable— a now appreciated key part of my process today [See: Wedding Embroidery Commission Part 1: Prep 🌱].
Hearing this story would evoke a specific, tender feeling in me: like when something feels like it recognizes you before you recognize it.
This story has given me a foundational reference point for when I feel this experience happening in my life. I’m able to tell my family, “lol I’m being the girl with the milk right now.”
⟡ THE POWER OF DREAMS
When my childhood ideas seemed way outside of my immediate resources and capacities, this story brought me so much comfort, relatability, and joy (more than any Disney princess movie could).
I like to believe that her story doesn’t end there. That she keeps her plucky tenacity and finds a way to make her dreams come true.
The girl with the milk is my patron saint of dreaming. And the girl with the milk is me.
❋ projects this inspired
Part of me feels like the reason I do anything is because of her. She’s impacted so much! But that’s also way too much credit to give a bedtime fable.
I would love to honor her in more direct ways throughout my work. If I do, I’ll link them here. 🤎
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