Mama ignored their fear-mongering and their warnings, instilling in me a child’s love for exciting new letters, then whole words, then the books that she adored; giving me enough words that it would take two lifetimes to lose them.
The first word I lost was her name, but I still knew who she was, and I realised that names were less important than the feelings those people inspire. The next words to go were the adjectives, which made me think about what I tried to say, but you don't need those to keep speaking to people.
Day by day more of them are starting to leave me, and I struggle to speak out loud. I no longer remember the one for a specific combination of letters. Soon I’ll have none of them left.
And they’ll all be gone.
How will I talk?
How to understand?