In our house, English is not English. Not in the phonetic (语音的) sense, like short “a” is for “apple”, but rather in the pronunciation. There is no difference between cast and cash, snake and snack ...

When my mother moved to a town in Malaysia, she had to learn a new language: English. In a time when degrading others was not ______, my mother was ______ against the cruel words from the teacher, with her paper ______ in front of the class. When she cried, the monitor stood up and said, “That’s enough.” She took my mom under her ______, used her words to fight back, and mended my mother’s strands (线) of language patiently.

Later on, my mother asked me to teach her proper English so old white ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. There is a measure of guilt when I ______ her letters together. Long vowels, double consonants (辅音)—I am still learning myself. Sometimes I let the brokenness ______“to keep her pride” but perhaps I have hurt her more to ______ those weird pronunciations.

As my mother’s vocabulary began to grow, I mended my own English. Through interviewing people from all ______ of life as a journalist I promote knowledge and ______ ignorance and become a voice for the homeless, the refugees, and the ______. My mother’s eyes are ______ in underprivileged children in poor countries who have so many stories to tell but do not know how to express themselves in English.

In our house, there is ______ in the way we speak to each other and language isn’t broken but rather bursting with ______. There are friendly______ in the cupboard and cheerful snacks in the tank. We have built a house out of words. It is a little ______ sometimes. But we all agree to speak the language of love.