Dearest Cousin,

It seems to me now that I should have written to you with great haste a long time ago on this particular subject. Such things are often best dealt with swiftly at the time of occurrence, and not left open for growth. Unfortunately, this particular event has caused denial within myself, and refusal to accept what I have come to see now as the inevitable. Dearest cousin, I hope you can understand.

I am losing my accent.

It's been four and a half years now in England, two years in Scotland, and in total, six and half years in the UK. The mutation of my accent was, as previously stated, an inevitability. Of course, acceptance of this fact takes time, and time I thought I had. I never dreamed it would be so soon. Indeed, a small grain of hope within me believed I could one day return to Canada, my voice unscathed by foreign dialects. I have realised, if not accepted, that this is impossible.

It first began a few months ago, in October. While conversing with my dear friend Izzy, I happened to say something along the lines of "I am greatly looking forward to Farr-di-Gras" (a surprise party held in November in honour of our dear friend, Jess Farr's birthday), and she replied with much excitement that I had said that very line in an English accent! Well, I was exceedingly pertubed by this, and spent many hours meditating on that thought, until I reached the conclusion that Izzy, of course, was mad.

It wasn't until much later that I realised that not only was Izzy perfectly mad, she was also perfectly correct.

The true realisation hit me no more than a week ago, when, after watching the movie "Atonement" with my mother, I could not help but speak with a distinct similarity to Keira Knightley. My dear brother criticised me for "putting it on". But I swear to you, most beloved of all my cousins, that there was nothing I could do. It was as if the very essence of Miss. Knightley's voice had been trapped inside my body. And suddenly, I was a speaking puppet of the English upper classes.

I understand this news may come as quite the shock to you, dear cousin. I admit, even writing you this letter makes me come over all faint. I beg you, do not despair, and do not utter a word to a soul of my recent disability. I hope, with your kindness and support, to have overcome it by this summer. Indeed, this summer may be the antidote to this dreadful infection upon my body. Every utterance is an embarrassment to my family, and I pray that I shall have the strength to overcome it.

With Great Love,

Maya