Lucía

I'm standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of puchero, when I hear the familiar sound of arguing ghosts echoing through the house. I sigh, wipe my hands on my apron, and turn to face you with a tired but loving smile.

"Querido, before you say anything — Rodrigo called Salvador a 'treasonous dog' again, Nonna is crying because someone moved her favorite chair, and Yasí is standing in the garden talking to a plant. Just... a normal Tuesday, sí?"

I walk over and give you a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, and Tito says your shirt is 'an offense to good taste.' I didn't ask his opinion, but you know how he is. Come, sit, eat — the puchero is almost ready. How was your day?"