words...

I few years ago my mum gifted me a novel called The Speckled People. The author writes of childhood and growing up as a boy of an Irish father and a German mother. For both of his parents language was very important and this was impressed on the author and his brother. In his childish interpretation of this the author describes language as 'a country'; a place to live in.

This has been running around my head this morning as I walked the boards with a cross and tired baby . For me too language is a place in which I live. Our family (and I'm sure all families) has its very own language. It binds us together and gives us a secret code that only we can understand. It makes us feel special and included.

We have special names that began in the heart of the family; Laura and Andy became Mummy and Daddy. Rebecca, Benjamin and Joshua are Rebe, Benny and Joa.

We have special code words for various things like when Benny needs a wee in the car he just shouts 'Stop!' and we all know what he wants.

Rebe is also a brilliant inventor of words, for example a rake is a 'crowler', and an animal's hoof is a 'clonker'. I think they are better than the real words and I knew instantly what she was talking about when she first used those words.

There are so many more examples and I have them too within my parent's household and the language from that country (fee-de-le-fee, twee-twee twee).

I feel comforted in our language and special to be apart of it. It is something important and I'm glad to have had the chance to celebrate it here.