el idioma

I see Spanish as a wrapped and woven gift I am giving to myself. It's like a shawl I drape aroud my shoulders, not only to warm but to contain an essence I thought I had somehow gotten away from. But here it is hanging from my elbows, dripping in texture. A parcel for my person. This notion of the language being a present I bestow upon myself makes me as giddy as it does to curl my tongue, desarrollo. I slide the past tense across my teeth like a worn lover, string wishes from another world. A sentence glides like longing, spilling sand through my fingers. I speak methodically and this changes the candor and timber of my being. Comprehension is like purring, I hum with a strangers words and when I respond I can stand strong like a bolsa tree. This gift will only grow.