posted by Paige on Uncategorized

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My eyes settle on the candle flickering at the center of the table, now littered with the nearly empty plates of our ten-person dinner party. I focus, watching the flame flutter and dance, then let my eyes blur until it’s nothing but a smear of light. Sharpening my vision again, I register the conversation rising and falling all around me, but make no attempt to engage. Having eaten and drunk as much as I have, I’m exhausted and overwhelmed by the effort of trying to concentrate on anything, much less a steady flow of words in a foreign language.

Nonetheless, the Danish words fill the room, lifting and dipping—near-meaningless sounds to me by this point, and nothing more. Seated near the center of the table, I’ve spent most of the meal shifting my attention between different conversations, depending on how much I could understand of each.

A lively one is going on to my left now, encompassing more than half of our group. Awareness of it crimps the edges of my consciousness, but concentration still eludes me. My attention is a helium balloon tethered to a rail, bobbing and swaying with each haphazard thought that passes through my mind.

A ripple of laughter momentarily interrupts their talking, and my host brother turns his face down toward mine, asking if I’ve understood. Shaking my head, I confess that I’ve been spacing out, that I’m far too tired to follow.

True to his self-appointed role as my most dedicated Danish teacher, he patiently explains what they’ve been talking about, bit by bit. My host mother joins in, her beautifully-phrased English pleasantly filling in some more information, and when they all pick up in Danish again I’m astonished to find that I’m suddenly part of it, understanding nearly everything.

My attention is fixed now, unwavering. They talk, passing the conversation between them like a ball, and I follow along with great curiosity. Several of the words they’ve just taught me act as keys to everything being said. Now that I have them, the syllables that were mere smudges of sound just a moment ago have become fascinating, bursting with significance.

A brief lull settles into the conversation and I choose that moment to speak, adding my own thoughts. The Danish words tumble out with ease, now seamlessly joined with the rest of my vocabulary. Six surprised faces turn toward me, and they urge me on, invite me in.

Where just moments ago I was drifting aimlessly, I’m now purposefully riding this wave, elated by my new comprehension and astonished at the difference it makes. Any residual fatigue is entirely gone; all I feel now is energy, the power of the words that are now part of what I’m able to do, part of who I am.

Hours later, my head finally on the pillow, I find the words are still active, still swimming—eager to perform again, to make meaning through me. Awash in gratitude, my mind at last lowers itself into sleep.