How long has it been since my last visit to Nantucket?
At least a decade
We took the fast boat out into the Atlantic
And sat outside on the upper deck
The smell of the salt air
The gorgeous view of dark blue ocean against pale blue sky
Arriving in the harbor
A flood of memories
Spending Christmas here with Kris
Traveling with Rachel on my way to drama school
Watching the Tonys with Binth and Normand
I’ve only ever been in the off-season
It was strange to see it so busy
Crowds of people
In linen and designer polo shirts and
Designer sandals and matching luggage
We left the tourists behind
And made our way down Main Street
To la casa de Los Titos de Nantucket
The Spanish flag was missing
Tita Tinka greeted us at the door
Warm and welcoming
Kisses on both cheeks
Though she couldn’t remember who we were
She gave us a tour of the house
It had barely changed
Everything almost just where I had left it last
But now faded and dusty
What was once gleaming has lost its sparkle

While Tito Fernando was sleeping
Tinka had her lunch in the garden
The place where she had grown up
And her mother grew up
And her mother before her
Peter stopped by, and Anselma and KeithAnn
The sky was bright blue and the air was warm
And the neighbors waved as they passed
Just as they always do

I went inside in time for Tito Fernando’s lunch
The nurse asked if I would like to feed him
So I sat with him and helped him eat his carne con arroz y vegetales
Food delivered by Meals on Wheels
Rachel joined us and put on some classical music
The music that was always playing in the car
The music of my childhood
The music that makes me think of Abuela and Abuelo
Connection across centuries and continents
“Who?” Fernando asked.
Soy Luisa, tu sobrina. La nieta de su hermano, Luis.
Y Rachael es la nieta de su hermano, Julio.
Somos las nietas de tu hermanos.
He seemed to perk up at the mention of his brothers.
He raised an eyebrow and almost chuckled when Rachel said he’d taught her to fold a fitted sheet
He definitely perked up at the mention of the World Cup
It was nice to be able to share that the Philippines had won a game and that
Spain was still in the running

I talked about doing the chicken dance on New Year’s Eve
And how that same year for Christmas, we killed a chicken
Cut its neck with a blade in the backyard
De-feathered it
And cooked it for dinner
I remembered the three-course meals we’d shared at that very table
The silver napkin rings
The candles
Going to church on Sunday mornings and coming home for brunch
The way Tito Fernando would announce
“I’m going to measure the bed!” before his afternoon siesta
How we stayed up late and watched Cranford on PBS
How Tita Tinka taught us to bake mountains of cookies - jam thumbprints and lace cookies and truffles and, of course,
Flan! The first flan in the history of time to rival Abuela’s
All from her impossibly tiny kitchen

And then it was time to leave
We helped Tito Fernando back into his chair
I held his hand, and kissed his forehead
See you soon, Tito. We love you.
Binth picked us up and
I burst into tears
We had lunch by the wharf and Normand joined us
Dear friends who warm your heart

All too soon it was time to be back on the boat
And as we sailed past the lighthouse
To make sure that we’ll return
I threw a dime into the water
Because we didn’t have pennies
(I still feel guilty about throwing coins into the ocean. Is it ok?)
And an hour later
We were back
On the mainland.