Sobremesa | Carlos Sainz Jr. [Ongoing]

uno

my plane touched down on spanish tarmac, the early summer drudging up a dry heat. i toted my carry-on into the airport with a sigh of relief. nine hours on a plane was more than enough for my taste.

i checked my phone to see a message from my aunt saying that she and my uncle were waiting for me by the baggage claim before tucking my phone back into my bag. the signs hanging from the ceiling guided me toward my family. as i neared, the nerves in my stomach grew.

it had been a few years since i last visited madrid—the last time being when my cousin isabella graduated from university. mama and i had flown in to stay with my grandparents while the family celebrated. even then, we had not stayed long. every visit we took growing up was short and sporadic. this summer would be the longest i'd have been in spain since i was six years old.

i rounded the corner and saw a line of conveyor belts pulling luggage in an endless loop. stationed in front of the one closest to the terminals stood my aunt and uncle who both lit up at the sight of me.

"lucia!" my aunt cried, flailing her arms in excitement as she rushed to meet me. i set my carry-on on the ground and let her envelope me in a bone-crushing embrace.

"hola, tía," i gasped, catching my breath only once she had released her grip on me. "hola, tío."

my uncle smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, "¿alguien ha continuado con su español, eh?" [someone has kept up with their spanish, eh?]

"sí," i nodded, "of course."

aunt cristina lifted my carry-on and ushered me over to the baggage claim, "we must hurry. abuela is making dinner for us."

i smiled and turned my back to the conveyor belt, "let's go then."

"what about your suitcase?" uncle andrés asked, gesturing to the machine behind me.

i shrugged, "i only brought my carry-on. i'm here all summer but i wasn't dragging all of my belongings with me."

uncle andrés chuckled as a look of horror grew on my aunt's face. "i must take you shopping," she offered but i shook my head.

"i will get things as i need them," i countered. i was fine to make due with what i had on hand, and if any situation arose that i would need something new, then i'd worry about it.

andrés smiled and lifted his car keys, giving them a jingle, "vamos." [let's go]

the three of us made our way out of the airport and to the parking lot where my uncle's pegaso Z-102 sat. it was the 1954 spider in the color of crema with a soft top—in other words, a car to die for and it looked beautiful against the spanish scenery. uncle andrés grabbed my carry-on from my aunt and put it in the boot before circling to my door and opening it for me, "don't get drool on the windows." i laughed and climbed into the cab, tucking myself in the middle so that my aunt could climb in next to me.

it was a cramped ride back with there only being enough room for two people, but it was a short drive from the airport to my grandparents house. my uncle pulled the car into the yard with was flush with greenery. the house was stacked into the hills, creating a plot of shade which kept the land cool—perfect during the summer. the grounds sprawled out, dotted with cattle and sheep which my abuelo owned and maintained with his sons, excluding my father. it was picturesque really, though i knew most of spain was compared to the states.

my aunt and uncle climbed out of the car and i followed after to retrieve my luggage from the boot. when i turned back to the house, my grandparents had emerged from the doorway. "¡hola, mi pequeña lucia!" my abuela beamed, her excitement evident from here.