There are words.
And then there are words.
I use words everyday. I speak with the words that my lips and tongue create. The vibrations from my throat enunciated by my mouth communicating everything. Or nothing.
Words. English words. Russian words. Spanish words. Words that aren't even real. Words that exist simply to tantalize. Words that exist to compliment another word. Words in Latin. Words in Chinese. Words are a funny word when you say it again and again.
Words my daughter does not have to communicate her needs.
My words to you.
My daughter is learning how to speak. I am observing the creation of words. At 16 months she can say "daddy, doggy, mamamama, hi, bye, dolly." That's it. And she can sign for nursing and point.
Sadie's frustration in her inability to speak disrupts my life. She yells. She stomps her foot. She pinches me, grabs me, whatever it takes to get me to understand her desire. The thought process exists - the words have yet not been found. I struggle with this concept because she can understand me. How can she understand my words and yet not speak? Why is there a lapse in her ability? How do words have meaning without actually being able to use them?
I find words to be delightful. A beautiful sentence, the turn of a phrase, makes my heart flutter with excitement. I love Oscar Wilde for his audacity, his use of language, his ability to create meaning in a sentence only understood by the careful reader. Some would call it "wit," I would call it genius.
The written word is wonderful. It is a living creation. Even if every single word is careful chosen by the author, ultimately the reader will decide the meaning of the piece. The reader's internal voice will decide what the author wrote. Indeed, the written word is a gift, a living art work meant to inspire.
I can't wait for my daughter to use words. I want to hear her thoughts. I want to understand her needs. I am ready to walk her out of the land of whining unintelligible things towards a utopian world where she tells me what she needs. What a delightful fresh life that would be!
I love the word "delightful." There is something absolutely delightful about the word. It is a word that makes me smile and think of a garden tea party. My delightful garden tea party below a beautiful tree and a table groaning under the weight of lots of cakes and whipped cream. I think a large hat would be appropriate for such an occasion.
Words. Friends. Friendly words.
Despite the definition of any word in a dictionary, the true meaning of a word is subjective. Delightful for me is boring for someone else. Boring for me is delightful to you. Who knows. Who is who? What do you know? What is what? Words are fun. What is fun? Does anything have an actual meaning?
I don't know.
And with that I'll wish you a good weekend.
Meet the Blogger!
I'm a mom. A writer. A lover of good fantasy. A proponent of nursing when possible. A birth advocate. I am absolutely horrible at keeping my house clean or the dishes washed or the laundry done. I strongly believe in women having a positive birth. When we start to respect women's rights to birth the way they want, we can start to treat women as equal people in this world.
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