The Language of Love
It’s amazing to watch Flynn speak, read and write
Chinese. She continues to enjoy
her immersion kindergarten program and I’m grateful she’s attending such a good
school.
About a week ago Flynn made a
surprising remark as we drove home from school. She said, “I’m kind of afraid to learn more Chinese. What if I begin to forget English? Then I won’t be able to talk to
you.”
I told her she didn’t need to worry about forgetting
English. I reminded her that we all speak English in our house and most of her
friends speak English so she won’t have the opportunity to forget it.
Flynn thought about that for a while and then said, “Yeah,
but I used to speak something else and now I forgot it. Maybe I can forget
English too.”
Her comments took me off guard and I was once again reminded
of Flynn’s fabulous memory. For
the first two years of her life Flynn spoke Cantonese. When we first met she didn’t know a
word of English and I could barely manage to proclaim, “I’m an American!” in
Mandarin. (Wo shi Mei guo ren.)
During her first few months at home Flynn and I spent hours
looking at English vocabulary flash cards, pointing out words and pictures in big
Richard Scarry books, and trying to communicate with each other. The experience helped to strengthen our
bond as mother and daughter.
Flynn’s life in Beihai, Guangxi China is a part of her. One day I hope we can explore this history
together.
On a much lighter note, Flynn and I had fun recently at the
Renaissance Festival. We joined up
with Flynn’s best friend from Pre-School, “M,” and the girls had fun looking at
castles, talking to fairies and meeting members of the festival’s royal
family. They even had a private
audience with the Queen and took an impromptu belly-dancing lesson.
In whatever language we speak or what century we visit—once thing
remains the same. I adore my
girl. As I said to Flynn the
moment I first saw her, “Wo ai ni.”
I love you! She's my Beihai Beauty.
