La Dormilona


Francisco’s mom has a lot of nicknames for me.

Like “la cafetera” (quite literally, “the coffee pot”), because Cubans drink the tiniest little cups of coffee ever–thimbles, I swear–and I need like 20 of them to equal my morning brew.

Like “la blanca” (“the white woman”), because everyone in Francisco’s family is a shade of brown and, as we discussed heatedly one day in the kitchen, I’ll finally lighten up the Collazo-Morales blood line. She’s happy about that.

And she calls me “la dormilona” (“the sleepyhead”) because I apparently sleep more than anyone else in her household. Which is strange, really. When I’m in our own bed at home, I don’t spend much more than six out of every 24 hours there.

But I have noticed, over the past week, that I’m all too eager to nap these days, and that I immediately fall asleep when we get in bed to watch a movie every night. “Mira como estas, mi dormilona,” Francisco says. “Look at you, my little sleepyhead.”

Damn it. Sometimes his mother’s right.


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