Hey there, wonderful readers! It’s Tina, back with another story from the chronicles of my life. This one is a bit more introspective, but don’t worry, there’s plenty of humor to keep things light. Ever thought about what it would be like to slowly forget your mother tongue? Well, grab a cup of coffee (or tea, if that’s your thing) and settle in, because today’s tale is all about that.

Meet our protagonist – let’s call her Emma. Emma is a bright, vivacious woman who has spent most of her adult life living abroad. She’s fluent in three languages and can order a drink in at least five more. Impressive, right? But here’s the catch: Emma’s slowly losing her grip on her mother tongue, Spanish.

It all started innocuously enough. Emma moved to the United States for college and stayed for work. English became her primary language, and she only spoke Spanish during occasional calls with her family. It was fine at first. She’d switch between languages effortlessly, like a linguistic chameleon.

But then, the small things started to slip. One day, Emma was on the phone with her mom, trying to describe her new apartment. “Mamá, es muy… muy… uh, you know, like… spacious?” Her mom laughed and supplied the word: “espacioso.” Emma laughed it off too, but it left a nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

Fast forward a few months, and Emma’s at a family gathering back in Spain. She’s excited to catch up with everyone and, of course, feast on her abuela’s legendary paella. But as she tries to join in the rapid-fire conversation around the dinner table, she realizes she’s struggling to keep up. Words escape her, and she finds herself defaulting to English more often than not.

“Emma, ¿qué te pasa?” her cousin asks, noticing her hesitation. “Nada, es que… se me olvidan las palabras,” Emma responds, feeling a bit sheepish. Her cousin chuckles and pats her on the back. “No te preocupes, te ayudamos.”

But Emma does worry. She starts to feel like an outsider in her own family, like she’s losing a part of herself. She decides to take action. Cue the language apps, Spanish podcasts, and telenovelas. She even starts a weekly Spanish-speaking group with some friends. Slowly but surely, she begins to regain her confidence.

And then there’s the humor. Because let’s face it, language mishaps can be hilarious. Like the time Emma was trying to say “embarazada” (pregnant) and ended up saying “embarrassed” instead. Or when she confused “pollo” (chicken) with “polla” (a rather vulgar term I won’t translate here). Her friends find endless amusement in her slip-ups, and Emma learns to laugh along with them.

One particularly memorable incident happened at work. Emma was giving a presentation and wanted to impress her colleagues with her bilingual skills. She started off in English but decided to throw in a few Spanish phrases. “Y en conclusion, este proyecto es… es… muy importante para nuestra… um… growth?” She blanked on the Spanish word for growth. Her colleagues, bless them, gave her encouraging nods, but she could see the confusion in their eyes.

After the meeting, her boss approached her with a smile. “Emma, great job. But maybe stick to one language next time?” Emma laughed and agreed. Lesson learned.

Despite the challenges, Emma’s journey to reclaim her mother tongue is filled with moments of joy and connection. She rediscovers the beauty of her native language, the warmth of its sounds, and the depth of its expressions. She realizes that language isn’t just about words; it’s about culture, identity, and belonging.

One evening, Emma is cooking dinner while chatting with her mom on the phone. She’s making her abuela’s famous paella, determined to get it just right. As she stirs the fragrant rice, she describes her day in Spanish, effortlessly switching between topics. Her mom listens, a smile in her voice. “Estás mejorando mucho, hija. Estoy orgullosa de ti.”

Emma feels a swell of pride and relief. It’s been a long road, but she’s found her way back. She knows there will still be moments of confusion and hilarity, but she’s okay with that. It’s all part of the journey.

So, dear readers, if you ever find yourself losing touch with your mother tongue, don’t panic. Embrace the process, laugh at the mishaps, and remember that language is more than just words. It’s a living, breathing part of who you are. And sometimes, getting a little lost is the best way to find yourself again.

Until next time, keep talking, keep laughing, and keep being wonderfully you. And maybe, just maybe, call your mom and practice a bit.

Love,
Tina