After spending many days with my husband in his Montreal and going through heartaches of adjusting to the new culture and language (as it’s NOT spoken on my French tapes), I have finally stood up today to tell THE WORLD who I am. And by the world, I mean children. Aren’t they the future.
Namely, I have had good and bad times being here, treated badly and kindly, almost to the extreme, but I knew, deep inside, I was letting it happen.
So, today as I was coming back from my walk, I see three young kids, probably about 11 years old, walk in front of me. One of them takes a big slushy cup of giant windex color drink and trashes it by the side of my husband’s building. For a moment, I felt the lack of power. I speak zero French and in this neighbourhood, people just speak French (98%). So I walk faster to reach the 3 boys and I tap the criminal on the shoulder. I tell him “excuse me, please go pick up your stuff”…he looks at me like I am crazy, says “don’t know, no speak”…and I say “Je ne parle pas le Francais, desole, but you are going to go with me and pick up your trash” and I hug him and walk him back to the “crime scene” and as he is fighting I keep saying “desole, pas francais” and then I let him walk to his cup thinking he may trash it right on me. But he doesn’t. He picks it up and takes it with him and I say “merci beacoup, please take it to the trash”…and he does. The boys kept laughing and making fun but they did what I asked them.
You wonder why I share this? Because for the first time in months of coming here and spending time in Montreal, Canada, I wasn’t sure I knew who I was. And today, I got myself back. I could stand for what is right, for my truth regardless of the language I speak. And I am grateful for the boy that made it easy on me.