How Tia Lola Came to Stay

“Why can’t we just call her Aunt Lola?” Miguel asks his mother. Tomorrow their aunt is coming from the Dominican Republic to visit with them in their new home in Vermont. Tonight they are unpacking the last of the kitchen boxes before dinner.
“Because she doesn’t know any English,” his mother explains.
“Tia is the word for aunt in Spanish, right, Mami?” Juanita asks. When their mother’s back is turned, Juanita beams Miguel a know-it-all smile.
Their mother is gazing sadly at a blue bowl she has just unpacked. “So you see, Miguel, if you call her Aunt, she won’t know you’re talking to her.”
That’s fine, Miguel thinks, I won’t have much to say to her except “Adiós” Goodbye! But he keeps his mouth shut-He knows why his mother is staring at the blue bowl, and he doesn’t want to upset her in the middle of a memory.
“So, please, Miguel,” his mother is saying, “just call her Tía Lola. Okay?”
Miguel kind of nods, kind of just jerks his head to get his hair out of his eyes. go either way. It can go either way.

It is the last day of January. Four weeks ago, during Christmas break, they moved from New York City into a farmhouse Mami rented from a Realtor by phone. Miguel and Juanita’s parents are getting a divorce, and Mami has been hired to be a counselor in a small college in Vermont. Papi is a painter who sets up department store windows at night in the city.