I wish I could fold my grandma and tata up and put them in my pocket to have with me always.
They came to visit today, because my tata had a doctor's appointment in town, and I seriously don't want them to leave. My grandma brought tortillas that melt in your mouth, and my tata gave me more laughs than a night's worth of Sabado Gigante could ever promise.
When they come over, the house feels alive, even though they spend most of the time sleeping. The rooms are brighter, and the background noise of old-people arguments in incoherent spanish are as soothing to me as an ocean shore set to Canon in D. They are in constant pain, and their bodies are giving out, but their eyes are full of life, and their words for me and my babies are full of love (oh the words for those babies....).
Sure, my grandma told my sister she could stand to lose a little weight, but she said it in love (what grandma doesn't?). And honestly, you just can't understand a thing my tata says, even if he speaks in perfect English, but, just about nothing beats a prickly kiss on the cheek from him, even though he almost always loses his balance after it. I have to be quick if I don't want to lose hold of him, but he always smiles as I catch him and sometimes he pretends he was just trying to dance, and there's maybe nothing more adorable.
My tata made fun of the extra skin under his arms today, saying that when he waves goodbye, he doesn't even need to use his hands. It was both hilarious and heartbreaking. He's losing a lot of weight lately, because he's been so sick, and actually seeing him get smaller and weaker makes me crazy with sadness.
It never feels like there's enough time, does it?
Right now the house is quiet, because it's late, and they've gone to bed, but it's still comforting to know they're here. I hope it feels like this forever.