Spring break. Sunshine. Early morning calm.
Common prayer, and a Creole learning app. Projects open. Scrivener. Open Office. iPhoto. A Blogger tab that is never finished.
Perspectives. Sunday School. Haiti preparations. SOLD.
A hammock swinging gently. Erasing Hell. Are Women People? Easy Readings in Spanish. Late afternoon quiet. Evening breeze.
He is risen. He is risen indeed.
Conversations about materialism and Haiti; beauty, creativity, and fashion. Because Haiti has informed every aspect of these kids, the way that the Rez once shaped our world.
Supernatural. A purring cat. Pen and paper. Journal.
Prayer. Written reminders of his faithfulness. Sunrise. Sunset. Desert. Emails and Facebook.
Life, this week, is quiet.
There is space for learning Creole, for new words and old words to swim together in my head, tenses and pronouns and basic vocabulary. Because, if I am going to encourage the kids to learn some Creole before we go, then I need to learn it too. More this year than last year. More last year than the year before.
It's surprisingly simple, this language. Except for when it's not. When the five forms of the same word make the difference between 'a' and 'an' seem like child's play. When I can't quite force my mouth to make the sounds, to drop the final 'n,' but, not always, and never completely.
Instead, it hovers in the empty space between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, surrounded by unfamiliar vowels that are almost phonetic, but not quite.
It rains, and, for the first time this year, the rain is warm, like even the sky has finally decided that summer is slowly on its way.
No comments:
Post a Comment