“Writing in English is like writing a love letter with a dictionary” – paraphrasing Cioran
trapped in the last breath mother took to the grave
up on the hill, in a small town with a long history of pogroms
I remember her waiting for that moment,
twenty-two years,
hoping death would free the body
did my language, the language she taught me, die with her ?
for most of us, death comes and goes,
one can even say it never leaves
hidden in a certain crack of the skin,
in the fold of a favorite dress
an echo in the white space of language, never the source
never the message
and then one day you receive a letter in a language you don’t understand
yet you decide to stick to your monolingual values
they make everything stand up right, and on the bright side
and then another day, you receive a second letter
this time, you understand a few words, here and there,
“dor” “casă” “țară”
you want to toss this letter in the garbage with the first one, yet something is stopping you
because it feels special
you keep this letter, you put it in a wooden box, on top of thank you notes from cohorts of
students who learned French from you, silly Mothers’ Day cards from your boys, and this
intriguing message a stranger left for you at Café Allegro saying you should know you’re
beautiful
and then you start waiting for a third letter
hoping it will be in Romanian.
Author Bio
Otilia Baraboi came to Seattle from Romania in 2000, after working as a literary journalist and publishing short fiction, translations, and articles. She holds a Ph.D. on the politics of translation from the University of Washington, where she has taught French for more than 18 years. In 2013, she co-founded the American Romanian Cultural Society (ARCS), and since 2022 she has served as Executive Director of the Alliance Française de Seattle. Throughout her career, Otilia has championed bilingual education and cross-cultural dialogue, creating programs that help communities celebrate and share their language and heritage.