February 08, 2012
Quarantined
Some months ago, I phoned my 84-year-old grandmother on a quiet Saturday afternoon after enduring a torrent of pleading from my father. I hadn’t spoken to her in two or three years, and she was lonely, he said. It was nothing personal; I just couldn’t really communicate with her in Spanish anymore, my command over my native tongue having become so rusty as to be virtually unusable. READ MORE >>
