The nature of language is one that shifts continually according to context. This happens regionally, in different social and socioeconomic settings. And it happens in the Home. In the past year Elle and I have somehow absorbed nautical terminology into our conversations. Specifically, we find ourselves speaking about how we might navigate the guesswork of parenthood or the give-and-take of the long-term relationship. The word arrived randomly, almost surprisingly, but we hardly look up at hearing it now.

Navigate or navigation comes from navigare “to sail, sail over, go by sea, steer a ship.” While we live in a region endowed with a great deal of water (it comes from the sky, trickles underground, lakes, ocean—ubiquitous is the only word for it), our use of the word can only be metaphorical. It would be too easy to diagram that metaphor here, and a bit cheesy I’m sure, but it’s not the only time we talk about our relationship as if it were made of water.

For years (yes, I can say that….we’ve been married for almost five), we have talked about riding the waves.  Crests and troughs. And yet, we hardly think of it. It’s no accident we named our boy River. Water is everywhere in our relationship.

I believe the language we use shapes the possibilities for our lives. When I think of who River might become, I think of how rivers start and transform. They trickle, burble (he’s a pro), grow wider, deeper, calmer, and they torrent, fall and carve out a path—however slowly—on their way into that bigger body of water. (So much for avoiding extended metaphors).

Our chance upon the words of water give me great hope, however. In the word there is a boat (navis, “ship”), and there is the chance to guide its route (agere, “to drive”). So far, I think we’re doing a pretty damn-good job of steering this ship together.