After another stop, Sonia took the wheel until evening. Then Rosie continued driving until they arrived in Miami.
“We are not far,” Tommy said to Luisito.
“How long?” Luisito said.
“I don’t know, but we are close. When I see palm trees I know we are getting close to my Abuela Maricusa,” Tommy said.
“I hope she is waiting for us with hot chocolate and churros,” Sonia said.
“What are churros? A typical Miami food?” Luisito asked.
“No, they’re a pastry eaten in Cuba with hot chocolate or café con leche. It’s really from Spain, but many countries claim it because it is so good!” Rosie said.
“I remember eating churros as a child,” Elena said. “In fact, I had forgotten all about them until now.”
“You are going to love them,” Tommy told Luisito who by now was quite hungry just thinking about it.
It was already dark when they drove through the streets of Miami. They saw mostly one-story ranch homes with aluminum fencing.
“Look, Abuela and Abuelo are waiting for us on the porch!” Tommy exclaimed.
As expected, hugs and kisses and hot chocolate awaited them. My cousins were right, Luisito thought. The hot thick chocolate was delicious, especially when he dipped the churro into it. Maricusa had guest rooms prepared for the parents and the sunroom ready with cots and sleeping bags for the kids. Luisito, exhausted from the excitement and the long day, fell asleep in seconds.
The next morning Luisito woke to the strong aroma of Cuban coffee and cheerful noises coming from the kitchen: the percolating of the coffeemaker, the sizzling of huevo fritos (fried eggs), the popping of the toaster, and the constant opening and closing of the refrigerator. It was breakfast time, all right!
“After lunch let’s go to the grocery store to get some things,” Maricusa said to Rosie.
“No, Mami,” Rosie said, sensing her chance. “Make me a list and I will go with the kids. You can stay here and continue cooking.”
“Do you remember where the grocery store is?” Manuel, Tommy’s grandfather, asked her.
“Of course I remember,” Rosie said.
Meanwhile, the family ate breakfast and chatted about Christmas, about the process of obtaining Abuela’s immigration papers, and, of course, what to do when Cuba was free again.
“I’ll go back to live in my house in el barrio of Milagros in Havana,” Maricusa sighed.
“Ah! It’s probably a cuarteria, a squatter home, all in disrepair thanks to the revolution!” José said.
“You are absolutely right, I’ve passed by it,” Elena said.
“I will buy a vacation beach home in Varadero. I will renovate it and spend my summers there, but I’m not going back there to live,” Rosie said. “The United States is my home now.”
“Hey, stop dreaming for a minute and come outside to look at the gallinas, the hens,” Manuel said to Rosie. “This is where I got the eggs you just had for breakfast.”
“Only in Miami can you have chickens as pets in your backyard,” José said, laughing.
Rosie followed her father out the door to see the hens. But she missed the last step and fell to the ground. Her flip-flops flew into the air. She cried out in pain.
“¡La niña se cayó!” Manuel shouted.
“Who fell?” Tommy said.
“Your mother! Quick, get some ice!” Manuel said.
“Honey, are you okay?” José asked.
“I think I sprained my ankle,” Rosie said.
José helped her to the sofa and put her feet up.
“Bring the ice,” Maricusa said. “She will be fine.”
“Now, don’t do anything. Just rest,” Miguel said.
The family gathered around her, staring in concern at her foot with a bag of ice on it.
“Well, Sonita,” Maricusa said, “you will have to go to the supermarket and pick up the food I need.”
“No, I’ll go,” Rosie said, trying to get up. This was the perfect chance to take Luisito to the shrine of Our Lady of Charity and speak to the priest in charge.
“No way, honey,” José said. “You can’t go like that. I will go to the grocery store.”
Luisito realized this was their only opportunity to go to see the priest.
“I will go with Sonia,” he blurted out.
“Let’s go!” Sonia said quickly.
“Wait,” Rosie said, trying to think quickly. “Give me a piece of paper so I can write down the driving directions for her.”
“There’s no need. I will just tell her,” Maricusa said. “It’s really easy. You take this road down to ninety-eighth street. Then you take. . . .”
“Mami, let me write it for her,” Rosie said.
Sonia gave her mother a piece of paper. Rosie wrote on it while the family all discussed the easiest way to get to the grocery store.
“Come here,” Rosie said. “Let me give you a kiss.”
“They’re only going to the grocery store,” laughed José. “You’d think they were embarking on a dangerous journey.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Rosie said, forcing a smile. Ay, Dios mio, what am I doing? she thought.