Music to my ears.

For four weeks I've heard English every day.  Only English.  When we arrived at the Dallas airport on our way back to Budapest, the sounds began to change.  Spanish speakers sitting next to us in the terminal.  Hindi spoken in the next row on the plane.  Arabic behind us.  We were getting closer to home, where the linguistic variety is comforting.  Closer to a place where multiple languages are heard daily.  Not always understanding every word spoken around me feels like home.  I like that.