Love Has No Language
I believe that love has no language. It is the most meaningful word in my vocabulary, something that can never be taken from me, and is a gift from the heart. The first time I truly ever witnessed love, I wanted to hold onto that feeling and never let it go.
Every night when I go to bed I hear from my parents, “Goodnight, love you.” Not until last summer did I even begin to comprehend the four letter word in the middle of that phrase. I had always heard that word. But what did it really mean? Love. I went with my mother and other adults from my church to the jungles of Peru. The person closest to my age was over twenty years older years older than I was. I was discouraged by this, knowing that I would have to be around adults, for ten days, in a foreign country. Being treated like a child instead of an eager teenager was one of my main concerns. However, I went into it with an open mind, ready to embrace it head on. I headed to the jungle not knowing what was in store for me. I couldn’t not speak the language of the people that I was going to teach, and was not familiar with their culture. I stepped off the boat on the Amazon into the city of Santa Clara. At once I knew I was an outsider. My skin, hair, accent, height, language, and background were completely different from those of the people that now stood before me. I expected to see the villagers looking at me like I was an alien from Mars because that was how I felt. Instead they took me to their homes, offered me food from their table, and picked me flowers from their gardens. However, we interacted like long lost friends.
I first met five young boys. I brought out Frisbees and a soccer ball, and as if by magic the barriers disappeared. We played in the hot South American sun for hours and never had to speak a word. Love was the only language we needed. They tried to teach me a few Spanish words and I would translate to English for them. It was a lost cause. But it didn’t matter.
The next day when I entered the jungle I was greeted by a little girl carrying a bouquet of flowers and calling my name. Not expensive roses but flowers she had picked herself. She had taped them together and written my name on a piece of paper. They meant more to me than any gift I had ever received because they were a gift of love. She looked at me with her big brown eyes and said, “Te amo,” “I love you” in Spanish. At that moment I knew the meaning of love. It was not just a word used to say to someone when getting off the phone or going to sleep. It was a feeling so strong it can conquer anything, so strong no words are needed. I believe that love has no language.