Accents

Today, while watching/listening to the Pope’s speech that he gave to congress I started to cry. And not for the reasons you think.

I got emotional the second he started to speak, and it was because of his accent.

It’s weird right? You wouldn’t think that an accent would make me so emotional, but I realized when I heard him speaking how very much I miss hearing accents. All kinds of accents, and hearing beautiful people speak my language and trying to communicate with me in English, and me in their native tongue, which always resulted in a form of charades, broken English, and broken Czech or German (or whatever language I’m sure I completely botched) which always resulted in me cracking up with a complete stranger about how absurd it was. How we both were trying so hard to compensate each other and to no avail. I guess I never realized how much I would miss those moments, even if it was a Czech person rolling their eyes at me when I tried to say “zmrzlina” (ice-cream) in Czech.

I’m not sure why or how or when, but I got attached to hearing different languages and hearing people say things in English and in different ways, it sounds ridiculous, I’m sure. And maybe I’m not doing a good job of explaining how I really feel about this or why.

I don’t know, it’s weird. I grew accustomed to hearing something different every time I went to order coffee, and I grew accustomed to that anxious feeling of wondering if they would speak English or if they would understand my horrible attempts at Czech.

Like when I went to a different country and I heard a new accent, or when the Turkish man brought me out a bunch of samples of traditional Turkish food and didn’t speak but a few words of English, but we some how understood each other; with gestures and smiles and facial expressions. And how he brought me something different than what I ordered because it was better and more traditional (I’m not sure how I gathered that from his gestures and completely broken English, but I did). That Turkish guy and I just got each other. And how at the end of my meal he said “thank you” in his Turkish accent to me and waved.

And here go my tears again. I miss those beautiful people and the languages they spoke.

There are so many moments and memories that I haven’t shared, moments that were burned into my very being and will forever linger on my skin. Moments that if I think about too much I’m sure I would jump in a car and run to the nearest airport, crying the whole way.

Who knew I would miss accents so much? It’s one of those things that you would never expect to miss, but once they’re gone, you miss it so much. Like a ring you grow accustomed to wearing, and when you take it off you realize how truly familiar it had become and how you just got used to it being there. Then suddenly you’re boarding a plane and flying back home and you realize that you left that ring behind, and it kind of rips your heart out.