Stand by Me
On raising a child between languages
How much weight can a few simple words carry?
Yes, No,
More, Done.
What is your mother tongue,
when you’re not from here nor there?
Who are you when your passport
doesn’t match your birthplace?
What is home when it’s a question mark,
rather than a place?
What goes through that little mind of yours
when your mother, your teacher, your father
all speak those simple words
(Yes, No, More, Done)
in completely different ways?
How can you make sense of it all?
How will you say I love you,
or I need your help?
Te quiero.
Ayúdame.
Abrázame.
¿Cómo guiarte en este caos,
cómo abrigarte entre tanta confusión?
Me pregunto en qué idioma sueñas,
Y si seré capaz de ayudarte
a encontrar tu lugar en el mundo.
Mientras, tus ojos me miran inquietos.
Me hablan,
Tus ojos.
Son reflejo de toda infancia.
Una mirada inmaculada.
Curiosidad brotando sin fin.
Y apenas tengo una respuesta.
Que cuentes conmigo.
Que estoy aquí.
Que siempre estaré aquí.
I resonate with so much of this in raising my daughter (who is three).
Italian father. American mother. Most likely moving to Barcelona where two other languages will come into play.
Unsure where home really is. I wonder where she will call home one day.
In all the feels on this one.
Love is the universal language 💛