I have never known a second language as well as I now know Portuguese. I feel as though I understand it, because there are now definitely times when words in Portuguese more accurately convey what I really want to say better than words in English. Less frequently, I find myself using phrases or patterns of speech that is clearly a translation of something I just thought of in Portuguese into awkward English. This usually happens after a day of several long meetings all conducted in Portuguese. Sometimes, it’s hard to turn off.
A good example of the former, where a turn of phrase in Portuguese, for me, is much closer to the essence of what I want to say than the same turn of phrase in English is when you say you miss someone.
Weekends are too short. Though they are often filled with complete and utter chaos, balancing the needs and wants of two incredibly energetic toddlers, not to mention the needs and wants of an incredibly adorable spouse, Monday morning comes way too quickly, maybe because neither Elise nor I have stopped moving since the preceding Friday afternoon. When you are surrounded by so much kinetic motion, the absence of it hits you like a hammer. All of a sudden you have two boys laughing, running, playing, screaming, crying, splashing all around you and the next moment, there is nothing, complete silence, parrots squawking, maybe, but definitely not the cacophony preceding it. This isn’t missing someone. You miss the bus. You miss a lay-up. You miss the trash can. This is “sentir falta de alguma coisa.”
To feel the lack or absence of something.
Because it is something you feel emotionally and physically. It manifests itself as a hollowness in your person, a space previously filled by something, a sweaty three-year old rubbing his matted curls and chewed-on blankie in your face, a one-year old rubbing his forehead back and forth on yours or crying and pointing to things that aren’t there, a pacie, a blankie, a bottle of milk. This is how I feel on Monday morning. Do I miss them? Yes. But “eu sinto falta de eles” more.
1 comment:
what a beautiful, heartfelt post about Saudade.... it's definitely such a broad definition, maybe captured only by the Portuguese language... being born and raised in Brazil brings me close to that definition. Currently, I'm back here, but before, and soon after here, won't be. It's the nature of the beast. My father used to define Saudade, as being: "the presence of the ones who are not there" (presença dos ausentes, stealing from Olavo Bilac, a writer).
it's a good word to define most of our time in the Service. Cheers from Recife, Raquel
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