Twelve years ago, when I moved abroad to pursue my master’s degree, I told myself one thing: I won’t date a foreigner. Not because I didn’t like the idea of meeting someone from another culture—but because I imagined the constant translating would be exhausting. Daily conversations already felt like effort, and I didn’t want love to be complicated.

And then I met my husband.

He’s Mexican. We started talking in English on day one, and somehow… it just clicked. It felt like we already knew how to finish each other’s sentences. Over time, I learned that when you’re building a life together across languages, listening becomes something deeper. It’s not just about the words. It’s about the intention.

Listening Is More Than Understanding the Language

Yes, we both took the time to learn each other’s languages. But even then, listening went beyond vocabulary or grammar. It became a bridge for connection. When we had our daughter, we chose to follow the one-parent-one-language approach—Spanish from him, Indonesian from me, and English as our shared middle ground.

And over the years, I began to notice something beautiful in how language shapes the way we bond:

• My husband connects in a playful, heartfelt way through Spanish.
• I naturally speak to our daughter in Indonesian, full of warmth and softness.
• In English, somehow I become more grounded and practical

It’s like each language brings out different parts of who we are. And listening? It’s what ties it all together.

Listening Means Reading Between the Lines

Sometimes, it’s not about what’s being said, but what’s being felt. Words can be limiting—or just not quite enough.

When I say, “I’m tired” or “I don’t know what to cook tonight,” what I might really mean is: I need a break—can we go out for tapas?
And when my husband says, “I’ve got a call now,” I know it’s time for our daughter and I to head out of the studio so he can focus.

We’ve learned to listen beyond words. But it also means knowing when not to bring something up. I don’t drop big life questions in the middle of his meetings. He doesn’t ask me deep philosophical things while I’m juggling dinner and bedtime chaos. Listening is timing. It’s care.

Listening Is in the Gestures

I grew up in a family where no one ever said “I love you.” That wasn’t our language of affection—and I guess it’s true for most Asian families. My husband, on the other hand, was raised by a mom who expressed love out loud and often.

If he measured my love by the number of times I said “I love you,” he might’ve felt let down. But he doesn’t. He sees it in the morning hugs. The meals I prepare. The way I run my fingers through our daughter’s hair while reading bedtime stories.

Love lives in the in-between. And listening means noticing it there, too.

Listening Is Choosing to Be Present

In a world that moves too fast, being fully present is one of the kindest things we can do for each other. Sometimes I’ll start talking while he’s still scrolling his phone. But the moment he hears something in my tone—something that matters—he puts it down. And I do the same for him.

It’s not perfect. But it’s intentional. And that’s what makes the difference.

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Communication in our house is a bit of a maze. There are pauses, backtracks, and lots of “Do you get what I mean?” moments. We take the scenic route in conversations—but that’s where we learn the most.

Living in a multilingual household has made us better at organizing our thoughts, slower in our responses, and gentler in our reactions. We don’t always get it right, but we try—and that effort builds trust.

Listening, at its core, is choosing to understand before being understood.

And if you’re navigating love, parenting, or life across cultures too, know that the beauty is in the learning. And in the listening.