I asked Jaime's cousin, Felix, how his mother was, and he said something like, "Oh, you know, she's restoring the artichoke."
But I didn't know, so we stared at each other for a while.
He continued...You know, the thing that is suspended from the ceiling of the church with a child singing inside, and as it comes down, it opens.
He used his hands for reinforcement.
I was also raised Catholic, so I've seen some weird shit, but this was definitely not one of my repressed memories.
I assumed it was the extreme jet lag I had after flying to Valencia with a 6-month-old.
Or maybe it was because Sol had shit from her butt to her neck in the car, and I didn't have a change of clothes for her bringing great shame upon myself in front of Jaime's tías.
Felix and I eventually found our way out of the conversation, and Jaime's tías found clothes for Sol.
But I had to admit that I hadn't been all there for awhile.
Since we'd had the baby, Jaime and I had almost completely lost ourselves. We were in the same house all day long, but we barely saw each other and spoke even less. We didn't even sleep in the same bedroom because I was constantly up with Sol, and Harper, my sister wife, assumed that while I was up, I might as well do something for her, too.
But that bitch can't fly, so I got my husband back in Spain.
We decided to go in March instead of summer this year because I'm not working, and that might have been our only chance to see Fallas together until we retire. Lolz.
Fallas is an insane combination of art, pyrotechnics and tradition. It's indescribable but, at the same time, kind of describes Jaime.
The first thing he wanted Sol and me to experience was the Mascletà. The Mascletà happens at 2pm every day from March 1st-19th, and you've probably guessed by now that it's when the entire city dangerously packs itself into the plaza in front of the city hall to listen to five minutes of uninterrupted, ear-splitting explosions before dispersing immediately like nothing happened.
I bought Sol some ear muffs for this psychotic event, and everyone thought that I was the fucking lunatic.
They all went as children and claim they don't have hearing problems, but I live with a Valencian who cannot hear a word I saw, so I know better.
The noise of Fallas I will never understand, but bury me in the beauty of the fallas.
Artists work year-round on gorgeous, themed sculptures (fallas) that are erected all over the city in the days before the festival and burned to the ground at the end of it. It comes from the medieval tradition of carpenters welcoming the warmer, longer days of spring by using their rejected work as kindling.
I cannot believe Valencia is still standing.
But because it is, Sol had miraculously embraced sleep and my mother-in-law rules, Jaime and I got to run around the city one night to see as many fallas as we could. We've never forgotten that we love each other, but that night reminded us why we like each other.
We even held hands, but it was because we were literally running around the city, and he didn't think I was running fast enough. This happens weirdly often.
Our family welcomed and took care of us like they always do, we ate, our precious friends came to visit, we ate. Jaime ran to the sea every morning. I didn't, and we ate. Sol met Jaime's grandfather for the first time and said goodbye to him for the last time. We ate.
And this artichoke felt fully restored.
