Spanish

I have no one in Utah with whom to speak in Hebrew. I fought so hard to learn this language and I love it. I don't want to lose what I have. This means that I have begun speaking to myself. In the car on the way home, I tell myself about my day in Hebrew, as if I were telling a friend. I plan what I will do in the evening, and who I need to call. I write my grocery lists in Hebrew and try to learn the lyrics to Hebrew songs as I drive to work. This is truly the opposite of easy come, easy go. More like fought for with sweat and tears, and clung to forcefully.

When I was first in Utah in January, I made lists of things to help me survive should I be forced to ever live here again. One of the items on this list was to learn Spanish, since here I am so surrounded by it. There are people to speak to, there are signs everywhere, brochures are often bilingual, there are Spanish radio stations, and Spanish television stations. I have begun to study Spanish, and to increase my vocabulary, and just for the sheer joy of it, I have started reading Pablo Neruda's poems. I read each poem first out loud in Spanish and challenge myself to understand as much as I can. Then I read it in English, silently. Reading this luscious poetry feels like eating rich chocolate. I flip through the book and sample poems with the same sense of anticipation that I have when I poke through a box of chocolates, looking for one with a perfect center.

When I was in elementary school, we had an early morning program where we were supposed to learn Spanish. I have two memories from this program: a puppet show, and a show that we put on for the parents. I got to wear a long black skirt and put a big flower in my hair. The downside was that I had to dance with a boy. I remember absolutely no Spanish from this class, but I hope that somewhere, Spanish grammar is hiding in the depths of my subconscious, and when I start to study Spanish seriously, it will come rising to the surface.