I realized today that I have more French-speaking friends than English-speaking ones. They tell me things, and I'm getting, at least a little, involved with their lives.
This week, I ordered gifts from Amazon.Fr for the children of one conversation partner whom I visited last summer. He was pleased, and tells me that they want to call me to thank me.
A different French correspondant found two weeks ago that her sister had attempted suicide. She has no idea why, and tells me that their family is shattered by the news -- as was the family of a second correspondant who told me a few months ago of the suicide of her sister.
A new contact tells me that her boyfriend thinks things are okay between them, and wants to continue, but she's not sure if they should. She wants to do right by him, doesn't want to let him down, but she's just not sure. She's so tense about it (and other things) that she grinds her teeth at night, to the point where she broke a tooth.
Another tells me that her parents are getting divorced -- and the mother has asked her if its okay with her. She would rather not be involved at all. While a woman in the north of France tells me of the birth of her second daughter, and sends me pictures. I'm arranging for flowers to be delivered to her home. Do I do that with my own family? Never even occurs to me.
I feel for all of these people. For some reason that I can't explain, they're more real to me than people in my own life.
2 comments:
For some reason you are more real to them then the French people in their life! Very odd.
Oh, I have no idea how most of them view me. I suspect I'm just this funny American they know who doesn't give them grief when they can't speak English well.
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