"Native Tongues"

All of their languages swirl around our heads each morning like smoke hanging above water, and we soak our faces in the lilts and inflections of their native tongues straining to understand. These differences do not phase Chloe, she doesn’t recognize discrepancies of skin and eyes and voices like I was raised to notice. And for me, I sit there engulfed, listening to the mothers talking rapidly but soft, with my eyes closed and travel to lands beyond my reach, to find a light hidden in the children, something special and true about the borderless limits to their laughter. Aleathia Drehmer 2007 Published by Amarillo Bay 2/08