I did it.

I asked my ever enthusiastic passionate emotions overflowing little one to “speak Armenian, please…”

As she experiments with English – she knows it quite well – and goes on and on telling us stories, I, with a feeling of panic, ask her gently to stick to her Mother tongue…

I did this.  I never thought I’d say those words…

I know she’ll be completely fluent in English in no time.  Everywhere around her, life is in English.  The books we read everyday are in English. Ninety-nine percent of our friends here speak only English… mastering this language is not going to be a problem.  Retaining her Armenian, however, this gives me a moment of panic.  We are a very small community of native speakers here in this hot city in the South.  There are only a couple of us.  I don’t want her to forget her Mother tongue.  Ever.  I meet people all the time who wish they had learned Armenian when they were young and now, years later, yearn to know how to communicate in the beautiful melodic language I love so much…

Ah, child.  I know you are growing. I know you love life.  I know that joy bubbles up inside you!   I know you love to learn…

I have to remember that when I was your age, I would speak Armenian “blbooli bes”  (like a lark) mama tells me, and then for a while, didn’t speak as much anymore during those awkward high school years when life was enveloped in English: friends, textbooks, essays, novels, songs, everything…  but that didn’t last long.  My passion for my language was reignited soon after and has only grown deeper through the years.  And no one ever forced me to speak the language; I just wanted to.

So I pray this for you, my child.

Sing. Dance. Listen well.  Learn.

And grow.

Blbooli bes.

And me, I have to learn to trust more. Trust the Sovereign One who has all these larks in His hands anyway…

Tags: Armenian, Blbool, language, Mother tongue, Mount Ararat