It's a phenomenal thing really.
Each part of the world and then smaller parts of that world have their own languages.
And I'm starting to sound like a southerner.
Well an Illinois southerner.
A south of I-80-ian.
My country drawl is getting worse the longer I'm in corn country.
It's an easier way to talk really.
I drop the "g" of most "ings" and keep throwing out "wanna?" when I ask my kids if they want to go get some yogurt with chocolately mix-ins.
I used to talk like a Chicagoan.
With full and round vowels.
And a hint of sarcasm following every other noun.
I have kept up with some Northern Illinois ways of speech.
I say sneakers.
Not tennis shoes.
I say soda.
I say grilled cheese.
Not cheese toastie.
I say White Sox.
I grew up with a very middle of America twangy accent.
Then I changed my location.
And I enjoyed hearing how my voice adapted to my surroundings.
To the city voice that was there just waiting to emerge.
Like I had emerged.
As a girl from small-town America who embraced her new city and home of Chicago.
Now I'm back in the country.
My city life is one from another time.
When I kissed boys at Cub games.
When I wore shorter skirts.
When I ate more pad thai.
But the country gal in me has emerged as a new one.
With my own voice and convictions that I found when I was in the city.
But with that old school twang from long ago.
Now, you wanna go look for fireflies?
Or lightnin' bugs as they say in these parts?