A Lack of Language

I wish I spoke Spanish. At home, there were very very few people who spoke Spanish as their first language. If I heard it, it was a high school student speaking it to their friends with an atrocious accent. Ergo, I chose to learn French in school.

I wish I had taken both. I am glad I know some French, but 90% of my neighbors and many of my coworkers speak Spanish as their first language. Most speak English well, but prefer to speak in Spanish. Much of the time, I can hear their conversations that they have outside because my windows are open. The only people I can understand are the two girls who play double dutch in the parking lot, because their chant is in English.

One of them was very upset today, though. I would put her at 11 or 12 (that age...). I was coming back upstairs from bringing out the recycling and she came down the stairs sobbing with a bag of garbage. I'm guessing she didn't want to take it out and her mom made her. She rushed by so fast, I didn't get a chance to ask if she was all right. She's the oldest of three kids, from what I can tell. I think they live with their grandma?

I should probably just talk to them when I see them. Haha. I am sounding like a creep-o. I'm really not, I swear. If I was, I'd know where the cute man lives. I've only seen him in the laundry room.