A New Year, a New Language

For my fortieth birthday, I decided to learn Italian. My grandparents spoke it at home, but I only ever learned a few words, mostly about food.

I started with an app, fifteen minutes every morning. Then I found a conversation group at the library that meets on Thursday nights: a retired engineer, a college student, two sisters planning a trip, and me.

We are not good. We mix up our verbs. We say things like "I am very hungry for the library." But we laugh a lot, and every week we understand a little more.

Last week I called my great-aunt in Naples and spoke to her in Italian for five whole minutes. She cried and called me "tesoro," treasure, which is exactly what my grandmother used to call me.

Learning something new at forty is humbling and wonderful. It opened a door back to my family that I thought had closed.