Father comes over. I show him a book. Written in Mixteco and Spanish. I ask if he could read it in dialecto. He tries and says there are many regions and many dialects. He tries and says no. His dialect Zapoteco Is different. We sit and talk about language. We always talk about language. I love language. His first language. Home. Colonized language. Second. Broken English. Third. Too many decades lost. (Between us) I don’t want to wait too long to say.. The best parts of me come from him Never thought I could say this. I am because he is. Time. Space. Healing. Wisdom.
