Español

When I was about four years old, I befriended a girl in my apartment complex named Myra. Our friendship was one that psychologists would fangirl over. Despite the fact that I could only understand Spanish and she could not understand any, we found a way to bond over our love for Barbies and play hide-and-seek. Both of our mothers were fascinated by our ability to communicate with each other in the face of the language barrier, in a manner they thought was remarkable.