It happened so gently, so easily I never noticed. My husband and I would take a morning walk down to the beach chit chatting about this or that: my work, his plans. One day he shared with me one of his Spanish lessons. He’d been taking lessons for weeks now and was studying so diligently. I repeated his phrase and he gave me another one, and I repeated again. What I discovered was that I really liked the sound of it.
Perhaps the affinity came from it being the cousin to my native French, or perhaps because it is the language that surrounds me in Los Angeles. Regardless, I found such delight in the syllables rolling off my tongue, the languidness of the vowels and consonants coming together to form new sounds.
Every morning we walk now, like 5 year olds putting together our words, ‘my cat is black and white,’ ‘my house is nearby and to the right.’ But I find I am learning quickly, and my husband improves as well with the teaching. It is something new that we share every day. The lesson is only the length of the walk to the beach, but it is such a delicious way to start the morning.
‘The tree is green.’ ‘What time is it?’ ‘I carry two telephones.’ There is no room for deep philosophical conversation, but I do know how to ask where the store is and that is enough.
This is the summer I am learning Spanish. This is the summer I re-discover the world in simple nouns and verbs. This is the summer I find delight in short phrases and easy questions.
This is the summer I realize how beautiful it sounds to say ‘I love you,’ in Spanish. Standing there, cup of coffee in hand, greeting my husband as he makes his way into the kitchen. ‘Buenos dios, mi esposo. Te amo.’