She thought for a while. She is six years old and it looks cute when she thinks, but that doesn’t mean her thoughts are  any less serious for it. Finally she answered. “I don’t really know what they say,” she said, “but I know what it means.” She looked up. “It is like a different language that I once knew, and I still know it, but not so that I can translate it.” She didn’t seem startled by her own words, but she tried to make it still clearer for me. ”It is a bit like in a dream, or when you remember something that has been said a while ago, and you still know what it was, someone said to you, but you can’t make them say the words to you again in your memory.” She smiled at me. “So, I can hear them, and I don’t know the words, they have a lot of sounds in them that we don’t make, but I do know what they mean. Kind of.” she concluded. “Kind of?”, I sake, still trying to get used to the fact that she could hear them in a way that I could not.

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