Spanish chatter surrounds me, easing its way into my thoughts and mental rhythm.

November 24th, 2013, 2pm

Elderly men with woolen scarves and newsboy caps, seemingly from the center of Montevideo; young workers with hoodies and ball caps, likely from a construction site around the corner— all of them speaking to the others at their tables over coffee.

Their stories fill the space of La Gran Uruguaya, creating a warming din of lives being lived— unlike the flashing and subtitled television programs airing above us.

Today’s cold white light is diffusing in their pauses and aspirated speech, gently warming itself. I paused in writing, realizing I was trapped between two languages.

I liked my life in Spanish. Its tones coloring the mundane and soothing aggravation. Its foreignness giving me courage and inspiration.

The noise is picking up as wives and children join their families. It’s comforting like a blanket. And I’m smiling, knowing that this life isn’t as far away as I often think.

Cassie said thanks.

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Andrew Boyajian

Remembering, slowly, that there's more.

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