She asked him why he looks tired

It wasn’t planned. Jake picked up his laptop to move it off the coffee table and I said, almost without thinking, we should call Abuela Rosa. It was six-thirty on a Tuesday. She picked up on the second ring, flour actually on her hands, clearly mid-something in the kitchen. She didn’t even say hello first. She looked at Jake and said, in that particular tone she has, “you look tired, mijo.” He does not look tired. He looked perfectly fine. She was not accepting that.

She asked him why he looks tired

We ended up on that call for almost an hour. She walked us through the kitchen while she finished what she was doing — some version of the tamale dough she’s been perfecting since before I was born — and Jake, bless him, attempted to ask her a question in Spanish. She corrected his pronunciation twice and then told him it was muy bueno in a way that was clearly encouragement for a child. He was thrilled. I’ve been doing this multi-family archive coordination work lately and it’s been beautiful and logistically exhausting in equal measure, and sometimes you just need someone who has absolutely no interest in your organizational system and only wants to know if you’re eating enough.

She made Jake demonstrate his Spanish. He survived.

She asked about the Fourth of July food. I told her the mole was a hit and she made a face like she already knew, because she did already know. Before she hung up she told us to come visit. She says this every time. One of these days I’m going to call her bluff and just show up with Jake and a carry-on and see what happens. I think she’d be ready. She’s always ready.