Summary: A vignette on a married Hoss, a linguist Hoss, a philosopher Hoss who is contemplating the universe – or tidbits of it, the least. A different view, a key to interpret my longer stories.
Rated: K+ (1,180 words)
The Language that Stuck
Encyclopedia
***
There wasn’t so much of Swedish Hoss had learned from his family, unfortunately, but certain situations usually evoked enough repetition, so that some expressions had stuck.
Hoss heard it again, it was coming like a boom from the kitchen, and within a spell it burst out from the door and roared over the porch with the echo of running feet that thudded heavily on the planks.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!” yelped Carl, running in front of closely following Rebecka. The boy’s short, stout feet were miraculously avoiding tumbling, and from the bulky form of his body it was not evident how quickly he could run in the time of need. Rebecka pulled her skirts higher and a colorful mix of bare knees and striped stockings flew across Hoss’ vision.
‘Yelp’, hjälp that sounded like hjelp, was Swedish for ‘help’. The yelp of help didn’t come alone, and the anticipated sound of yet heavier footsteps preceded Carl’s next quote.
“Mamma dödar!”
Mama kills.
The shrill shriek echoed in the yard as it had rung many times before, and Hoss patted his horse he had tied to the post a moment ago. Chubb flared his nostrils and pushed Hoss’ shoulder with his head, obviously familiar to this little scene, as well.
Elin burst out from the door and tried to snatch the air, even if she was obviously too far away from the little boy and the young woman ahead of her. She was a bit round and plump from the midriff, but she, too, was quick as a greased lightning.
“Kom tillbaka!” Come back. There was a way Elin made that phrase pretty, at times, but there were other nuances in it, too.
“Kom genast tillbaka, eller…” Come back right now, or else… Hoss shivered, and rubbed Chubb between the ears. The children disappeared to the surrounding trees and Elin stopped, breathing heavily and tapping her foot on the ground. Her fists rested ominously on her hips, and the movement of the ribcage, between the shoulders, above the curve of her back, looked nearly fuming under the arched neck.
Hoss already knew the next quote in the near future. Please, Ma. ‘Snellar’. Snälla, Mamma!
There was an occasional snälla, Pappa – well, more than occasional, there were plenty – snälla, Pappa came usually from puppy-eyed offspring, wiggling in front of him and impatient to hear the answer. To keep all the kittens, snälla, Pappa. There were so many new colours of candy in the shop – snälla, Pappa. To go fishing for two days and stay overnight, with the neighbour Kellers, or Uncle Joe. Snälla, Pappa. Carry me on your shoulders, snälla, Pappa?
Hoss sighed, and admitted, but only very secretly to himself, the other edge of it. Yes, very rarely, when he had to rise to his full height and crouch his shoulders and frown very gloomily to the little ones, there had been a snälla, Pappa or two. No puppy eyes and even a tear or two should make him falter as a Pa, but sometimes the waver of the snälla, Pappa crawled into his heart.
Learning tongues was hard.
Herregud. Oh dear Lord. Herregud, it was hard.
When Joe had been carried to her home, shot, bleeding… Herregud. When the children had given Elin buckets and buckets full of flowers as a gift one Sunday, herregud. Elin had clasped her hands together and embraced herself, and looked at her children with tears and smile mixing into a radiant shimmer. But when their two girls had been found painting their lips in red and their cheeks in rouge – herregud, that made Hoss’ skin go on goose bumps. A herregud that she’d said to him when she was allowed to look at him the first time all properly had given him a memory that made him shift. But just a bit for discomfort.
Herregud did go well with a little snälla, Mamma, and the grammar included often a ‘ya will’, jag vill for ‘I want.’ Stomping feet, rising voices, flaring nostrils could spice up the syntax every now and then, and right there, a snälla, Pappa or snälla, Mamma did come in handy. Then again, some of the little jag vills were accompanied with fluttering eye-lashes and pleading tongues, as the tangling youth hung from the hand of the snälla, Pappa.
Yup, in a matter of some years still to come, Hoss was certain to master a certain level of Swedish, that was for sure.
There were two words that raised a sweet smile on Hoss’ face, and turned the blue eyes into an inward meditation. The cornflower blue twinkle softened into a mist, and the tender memories filled his heart so that the breathing came partial.
One came on the days when he found himself wondering, what had come to his life. When he felt grateful to God who had given him a chance of happiness, the times he felt so secure but was afraid to be so secure of his biggest happiness. Älskling. ‘Else cling’, he had joked to Elin, and she had giggled but whispered it over and over again against his tan skin, the stubble, while her hands travelled over his body or just her eyes looked at him, seeing and revealing more than Hoss had never had confidence to believe.
Min älskade. My love; my beloved. He repeated it in his own way, in his own tongue, with his own gestures; being so close to her it felt she surrounded him completely.
Another word, that was a whisper from the mother Hoss had never known, was also a reminder from childhood, from their Ma, Marie. Almost likechérie, this word purred softly on Elin’s tongue and escaped her lips, caressing her children like Marie’s words had caressed her three boys, but having an additional soft edge for her loved one, the father of the family.
Elin turned to face Hoss, the specks of anger still glowing faintly on her cheeks. The posture softened, the eyes turned more upward from their corners and a set of wrinkles framed her smile. Her hand snuck up over her belly while her other hand brushed the fly-away curls off her forehead, and the lips opened up slightly to form the soft chérie.
Hoss smiled at her and stepped closer, and she extended her hand, too, when his gestures asked her to come. Hoss tuned his ears to receive all the nuances and echoes of the faint little whisper that came out of her mouth so easily.
“Min kära.”
My dear.
***
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