Pretenders

Hablas muy bien el español.

¿Yo?

¡Sí!

A, pues...gracias, muchas gracias. Es una meta más grande, gracias.*

*Always said with my fingers touching, just above my heart, to denote humility.

I noticed that I do this when someone compliments my Spanish. I thank them, cite it as an important life goal, and resist the urge to put myself down by substituting with a physical gesture.

Ever feel like a phony? 

Like you have nowhere near what is needed for the moment, but there you are anyway?

Ever see yourself performing so crudely, through a thick accent and butchered syntax, that you cannot believe that anyone could ever possibly believe in you? Okay, maybe that last example got a little specific to me, but whew. Striving for stuff is hard enough in one's native language. Doing it in a learned language is like the imposter icing on the fake-it-'til-you-make-it cake. It.

Sorry. Where was I?

Oh yeah, in Colombia.

In love with the adventure of building a new home and life in this beautiful place full of kind hearts.  Invigorated by challenges and achievements encountered daily at my new job. In a state of utter confusion, at times. In over my head, as usual. 

But more at ease about feeling out of my depths, maybe because of something I know, in Spanish. I know that right now, we are pretenders, and that's okay. Because pretender, in Spanish, can mean to aim. 

And doesn't that make a lot of sense? 

To aim at something is to head toward it, perhaps with all the confidence of having already accomplished it. But how else does one arrive? How else is the target hit, unless it is aimed at? Where do we go if we don't pretend we're going there first?

Our family observes the New Year's tradition of running around the neighborhood at midnight with luggage, to bring good fortune to the year's travels; superstitious fun or endurance test, depending on the weather. 

Twelve months ago, as we layered and packed, preparing to pretend again, we knew we were aiming to live in Colombia by the end of the year.  With so many more questions than answers, we dragged our suitcases down the street and took the obligatory selfie. All the while I wondered about what the next New Year's Eve would be like. 

That date was so far out of view, we could only head toward it, like arrows finding a target in a world of possible landings. It was an auspicious start and the trajectory has stayed true to our aim: to be together in Colombia, beginning a family chapter as immigrants. As outsiders. As newcomers. 

As pretenders.