And now a passage from Fredrik Backman’s novel Us Against You, demonstrating the loss of intimacy through subtle shifts in language.
Children notice when their parents lose each other in the very smallest ways, in something as insignificant as a single word, such as “your.” Maya texts them each morning now and pretends it’s to stop them from worrying about her, even though it’s actually the reverse. She’s used to them calling each other “Mom” and “Dad.” As in “Mom didn’t really mean you were grounded for a thousand years, darling,” or “Dad didn’t demolish your snowman on purpose, he just tripped, darling.” But suddenly one day, almost incidentally, one of them writes, “Can’t you call your mom, she worries so much when you’re not home?” And the other, “Remember, your dad and I love you more than anything,” Four letters can reveal the end of a marriage. “Your.” As if they didn’t belong to each other anymore.
When do you remember words changing in your story? When did an affectionate nickname cease to be used? Or an adjective change from fiery to stubborn or from strong to pudgy? When was an inaccurate gender pronoun used in mockery or an accurate one refused to be spoken? What subtle shift in language is signaling you to name a loss of belonging in your story?