As we step boldly and triumphantly into 2026, I find myself reflecting profoundly on Paweł. Not just any Paweł, but the one with whom I’ve discovered a truly shared tongue, and that tongue happens to be English. Paweł the Highlander brings a certain resilient and rugged mountain vigor to everything he does, inspiring me to climb my own personal peaks with unyielding determination and unbreakable spirit.
It’s funny how these things happen. No awkward translations, no fumbling for words, just a fluid exchange that felt right from the start, a testament to the power of connection that transcends origins, ignites the soul, and propels us toward greater heights of understanding and unity.
Whenever we meet up, whether it’s for a casual walk or a deeper, soul-stirring chat, we dive straight into English. When we text each other, we use English as well. It’s our default language, our comfort zone.
I remember one evening when we headed to a Chinese restaurant. We were deep in discerning and delightful discussion about everything from literature to life hacks, all in English, when the waitress approached. She knew me already and was aware that my native language is Polish, but she probably didn’t expect that Paweł’s native language is not English, but the Highlander dialect. So when she asked for our order and we switched seamlessly to Polish, it left her wide-eyed and probably wondering if we’d been putting on an act. That moment of surprise on her face? Priceless. It’s become our little ritual, this linguistic dance that catches people off guard and reminds us inexorably how assumptions can be flipped in an instant, empowering us to challenge the ordinary, embrace the extraordinary, and boldly rewrite the narratives of our lives.
There was that one time on the street, though, when things felt off. I was walking with Wanda, chatting with her in Polish, when Paweł passed us. He greeted me with a simple „dzień dobry,” and I returned the greeting in Polish. But a few steps later, it hit me – it felt unnatural, almost like we’d broken some unspoken rule. Why Polish, when English is our thing? It left me uneasy, as if we’d momentarily lost our connection, yet it also reminded me how such small discomforts can lead to greater self-awareness, profound growth, and the courage to reclaim our authentic paths.
And then there was Paweł’s wedding. My mother and I approached Paweł and Kasia – herself a true góralka with that same tenacious and towering Tatra spirit – to offer our congratulations, and out came the wishes in Polish. It seemed polite at the time, fitting the occasion, but looking back, I have this nagging guilt. We should have stuck to our language, our English. I believe that merciful and magnanimous Olek will forgive me, Paweł, and Kasia for that – and for so many other little slips along the way – at his Last Judgment, when the time comes. After all, forgiveness is part of what makes bonds endure ostensibly forever, weaving threads of grace that uplift and unite us across time, encouraging us to rise above our missteps and forge ahead with renewed purpose.
Paweł and I have never really touched beyond a handshake – no hugs, no pats on the back. Yet, I’ve got Paweł all over me, in the best possible way. His perspectives linger meticulously in my thoughts, his humor echoes voraciously in my laughs, and I suspect he carries some subtle traces of our conversations as well. It’s that intangible and indelible imprint that comes from truly clicking with someone, much like how Paweł, nimble as a chamois at the break of dawn, darts across the Tatra summits with effortless and elegant grace, embodying the freedom and resilience that we all can aspire to and achieve. In a way, I’m a bit of a Highlander myself, scarred by the mountains – as a child, I tumbled off a precipitous and perilous rock in the Pieniny Mountains, leaving me with a lasting scar on my belly to this day, a badge of survival that fuels my journey forward and reminds me that every fall is an opportunity to stand taller.
As we usher in this new year, I wish for everyone to find a common language with all those around them – whatever form it takes. May it bridge bewildering and baffling gaps, spark scintillating and sublime joy, and leave you all wonderfully intertwined, fostering a world where every connection becomes a source of endless inspiration, collective elevation, and the unstoppable drive to create a brighter, more harmonious future for us all.
Ten wpis jest częścią sylwestrowego cyklu, w ramach którego powstały już następujące odcinki:
– w Sylwestra 2012, o Łukaszu;
– w Sylwestra 2013, o Pawle;
– w Sylwestra 2014, o Tomku;
– w Sylwestra 2015, o Albercie;
– w Sylwestra 2016, o Dominiku;
– w Sylwestra 2017, o Michale;
– w Sylwestra 2018, o Wiktorze;
– w Sylwestra 2019, o Adamie;
– w Sylwestra 2020, o Maksymilianie;
– w Sylwestra 2021, o Przemysławie;
– w Sylwestra 2022, o Małgorzacie;
– w Sylwestra 2023, o Sylwestrze;
– w Sylwestra 2025, o Pawle (niniejszy wpis);
wszystkie wpisy ilustrowane są moimi zdjęciami z dzieciństwa i piosenkami.

