IT'S ME, I'M HOME

Home means small spaces. It means tight hugs, loud laughs, fresh bread with tomato and olive oil for every meal, and food sitting out in the kitchen all the time because the fridge is cramped. It means no AC, memories everywhere you look, sarcastic jokes, dad jokes, the smell of fabric softener, people walking into the house without notice, Catalan TV as background music, blinds closed during the day and opened at night, fans running constantly, and the sound of the church bells telling the time every fifteen minutes.

These past four days have flown by. Since our time in Catalonia isn't as short as it's been on our vacations here, we haven't been trying to meet everyone scheduling coffees for every hour of the day like we’ve done before. We have taken it easy, slept well, had amazing food, and spent some quality time with friends. And although it was a known fact for Alex, he still could not believe everything closes on Sunday ("No way, Carrefour is closed?" - "Yup." - "And the mall too?" - "Yup." - "This is insane!"). God rested on the seventh day, and in Spain, so do we.

Today was our first Monday, so it was time to get back to work. Alex left to the workshop with my dad at 8.30 after a quick stop by the kitchen, where my mom had their coffees ready. My grandma Núria (we call her Avia, which happens to mean grandma in Catalan) came in a few minutes later with fresh bread, the same way she does every morning. She was beside herself that we are here and she kept holding my hands and looking at me with a big smile on her face, usually while commenting things such as “your teeth are so white” or “you are so beautiful” or “you grew taller from the last time I saw you.” Ever since we arrived, she announces “they are here!” every time she sees us, just in case somebody missed us walking around the house. Today she was extra nervous because she is leaving to the Pyrenees for a week with a girlfriend. She kept reminding us the details of the trip, and my brother finally said: “Avia, we know. Don’t worry, just go and have fun!” She looked him and started to lecture us, “Look, I am--” “--85 years old, we know,” said Jordi, finishing her sentence. She seemed satisfied that we all know.

My mom and I decided to go for a hike before starting to work on some serious deep cleaning and decluttering of the house. I've missed living by the mountains. Since we live in a natural reserve (Parc Natural de Sant Llorenç del Munt i Serra de l’Obac), there are a thousand trails for every level of hiker that you can access directly from the house. We walked up to see the incredible views from Can Roure, a church and cemetery where my great grandma Maria (Avia’s mom) is buried. She passed away at the hospital the same day my mom went there to find out she was pregnant with me. Seeing my parent’s babies was one of her biggest dreams, but even though they were in the same building, my mom didn’t make it in time to tell her she was going to have a great-granddaughter.

We went down the other side of the mountain hiking through berry bushes, olive and fig trees, oaks and pine trees. The breeze was nice and cool. Thankfully, the heat wave that welcomed us in the country was at the end of its days.

We spent the rest of the day organizing and cleaning. It makes me really happy to confirm again that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. My mom and I got into a trance during cleaning and didn’t realize that we’d been working non-stop until we were sweaty and starting to feel the first signs of dehydration. That seemed like a good point to take a break from our cleaning insanity and have some lunch with my brother Jordi. While we enjoy our delicious potato salad, a product of our neighbors’ harvest, we receive these pictures:

It’s been a really hard day for poor Alex.

Later that night, our friend/short-term Decatur roommate Xavi stopped by the house on his way to a very nice new bar that recently opened down the street. We went with him and were joined there by another lifelong friend from Matadepera, Rosa. We enjoyed claras (beer with lemonade) and wine in the patio, chatting until way too late (as always). On our walk back home the breeze played with my hair and I saw in my shadow on the ground that it was all frizzy and wild. I smiled to myself as I was brought back in my mind to memories of doing the same thing years ago. So much has changed, but so much remains the same, right here, like my old friends, like the summer breeze at night, like my crazy hair. Our hearts are happy, I think we were made for this life.

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