Everyone has heard refrains like “distance makes the heart grow fonder” or “my heart aches for you,” but has anyone said “I throw you less” to someone they miss?
This is one of the sayings — uno de los dichos — I’ve discovered during my time as an exchange student in Spain. “Te echo de menos” is a Spanish idiom meaning “I miss you.”
From my research, I’ve found that the phrase originated in Portuguese as “achar de menos,” which signifies aching or feeling less because a loved one is no longer there.
Then, whether by confusion or some other language-mixing phenomena, “achar” in Portuguese morphed into “echar” in Spanish.
“Echar” in Spanish means to throw, to chuck, to distribute or even “to move” when used reflexively. I don’t want to get into too many of the linguistic weeds, but the power and meaning of language is fascinating and multifaceted.
This new use of “echar” instead of “achar” has cultivated a deeper meaning in the phrase. I scoured bilingual translation websites in search of proper translation, reasoning or explanation; but it is impossible to carry all the nuances back to structures and grammatical standards of English.
I think the best way to communicate the meaning from Spanish to English would be “I am less without you” or “you leave me in a state of wanting” or even “I can’t do as much because I miss you.”
Think about the English saying for a second. Why do we say I “miss” you? It has come to signify a feeling of sadness because someone is not with us, like “a missing piece” or a lost presence. However, “miss” can also mean unsuccessful aim, for example, “missing the mark.”
There are countless rabbit trails we can wander down to analyze and construct meanings of words. When we seek to understand and harness these meanings, our communication can be powerful and profound.
I told you that I wouldn’t get into the linguistic weeds too much, so I’ll stop there. The main takeaway is the new depth I’ve discovered through Spanish phrases, particularly “te echo de menos.”
I hope I don’t surprise anyone when I say that I miss my loved ones and my home in the United States while I’m abroad. It was one of my dreams to travel and see the world; but every adventure has a tradeoff. In order to pursue something new, we have to leave something else behind.
This process of leaving behind while simultaneously discovering and fulfilling dreams is confusing. Many times, I feel lost in a vertigo of homesickness and fascination with my new surroundings.
It’s easy to let the worst parts of each combine and take over my mind. For example, the sadness of missing family combining with the confusion of being an alien on another continent. However, with a little effort and discipline, I can change my perspective and see something different.
These phenomena don’t have to work against each other. In fact, I think the push and pull of each can produce a new, heartfelt mindset.
I try to take the sentimentality of missing my loved ones and use it as support and comfort as I embark on new adventures. I remember that being abroad is merely a season in my life. It is only a journey — a journey I will return from.
I like “te echo de menos” because it is a phrase with confusing linguistic history and newfound depth. It involves action. It is impossible to fully analyze or explain.
I feel similarly. I, too, am experiencing a clash of languages, and my life abroad involves a lot of action and being without my loved ones. It’s impossible to squeeze all my experiences into a neat, tidy box. And sometimes, it feels impossible to translate my life abroad back to my English-speaking life in the U.S.
We have to experience things as they are while also endeavoring to process and understand them on our own terms. It’s a balance.
I can’t fully explain “echar de menos” or the minutiae of what I’m experiencing in Spain; but I can say that I miss my life across the Atlantic Ocean. I can also say that I love learning about the culture and language of Spain.
Saying “te echo de menos” to my English-speaking loved ones feels like the perfect mixture of all my feelings and experiences. It stands for itself, and it carries its own set of complex meanings and multifaceted implications.
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Sami Grace Donnelly, junior in English literature, began writing for the Plainsman in the Fall of 2021. She has served as a columnist, the Opinion Editor and is now a writer abroad during her exchange program in Spain.
