The Legend of Zelda

Growing up, I had one of those massive, gray Game Boys. I shared it with my brother along with a game called The Legend of Zelda. When we first got the game, I was determined to conquer the game and free Princess Zelda. I would play it whenever possible. I would bring it in the car and on long trips in a never ending attempt to beat the game. It was so fun. I would unlock new levels regularly, opening the door to new and more exciting stages of the game. Eventually, I came to this cave of some sort where I had to jump over lava to retrieve a key to unlock the next level. I kept trying and kept failing. I needed to find some way to defeat that stage.

Coming here, I was on one of those massive, gray airplanes. I shared it with my wife along with many other people on some sort of adventure all their own. When we first arrived, I was determined to conquer the language of Spanish and free my tongue from the binds placed on it thanks to the Tower of Babel. I would practice whenever possible. In taxi cars and trips to the supermarket in a never ending attempt to learn this language. It was fun and exciting. I started unlocking new levels such as greetings and an assortment of adjectives. After these levels, came new levels like small talk to discover what people where doing. I wanted to move on though. I looked for some key to allow me to advance in this adventure to conquer the language of Spanish. I tried a key called Spanish class and I tried a key called talking with strangers on the street for practice. I kept trying and kept failing. I needed to find some way to defeat this stage and move on.

After hours spent searching high and low for how I could jump over the lava to unlock the next level, I grew tired and frustrated. I played the game less and less until the game sat in the back of the desk drawer, collecting dust. It was not meant for me to free Princess Zelda.

After hours, days, weeks, and 3 months searching for ways to unlock more levels in this adventure, I find myself tired and frustrated at times. Surely there is a key that will instantly open my ears and loosen my tongue. If I spent my time looking for the key to instant understanding, I imagine my desire to learn the language would lessen until it eventually found a dusty corner in my brain to atrophy. There is no easy solution though. It will take time. I am determined, however, that this adventure to learn the language of Spanish will end better than my experience with the Legend of Zelda. Princess Zelda may be forever locked in her castle, but one day my tongue will be free and will speak Spanish. It may not be eloquent but it will be efficient