Thimble had woken up early, coffee in hand, to gather some raspberries from the everbearing berry bushes in the garden. On her way back, her basket laden with those little jewels of juicy sweetness, she stopped by the mailbox, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She was hoping for a return letter from Felipe’s family, a letter he had been incredibly anxious to receive. The whole Dreamspace crew had been checking the mailbox repeatedly for days.
Thimble closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached into the mailbox, her heart pounding with hope. Her fingertips brushed an envelope, and a gentle hope blossomed in her chest. She gripped it tightly, feeling a surge of excitement, as she read the return address. Her gasp made her drop her coffee cup. “Felipe is not going to believe this,” she whispered, eyes shining with anticipation.
In pure excitement, Thimble forgot to close the mailbox and bolted down the pathway toward the big tree, yelling, “Felipe! Felipe!” all the way down the hall. As she turned the corner into the cozy living room, she skidded into the door jamb, bringing her chaotic pace to a halt.
A groggy Felipe, curled up in a tight ball with crumbs from a late-night snack of churros scattered around him, lifted his head toward the door as Thimble crashed into it. “Amiga, what is the trouble? What time is it?” he replied with a gravelly voice. He looked around: the window showed the sun barely peeking over the horizon past the pond, and the banked fire radiated gentle warmth to everyone nearby.
Thimble walked toward Felipe with as calm a demeanor as she could muster, her face radiating an apology for waking him before she spoke. “Oh, Felipe. I’m so sorry to wake you. This letter came for you, but you need coffee first. I’ll… I’ll be right back,” she murmured, placing the envelope on the side table beside the beanbag chair before padding softly out of the room toward the kitchen.
While Thimble was in the kitchen, Felipe fully uncurled and poked at the fire, adding a couple more logs to stoke it. He turned back to reach for the letter and saw the familiar handwriting, which made him hold his breath as he thought of the person who penned those strokes — his mother.
“Madre, oh Madre, what do you have to tell me?” Felipe whispered softly, slicing open the top crease with his claw. The letter slid out, carrying his mother’s perfume and the warm scent of home cooking. He held it close, inhaling deeply, as memories flooded his mind and his heart swelled with longing.
Back in the kitchen, Thimble’s keen hearing picked up the light crinkling of paper and perhaps a gentle sniff or two from the living room. She took her time preparing Felipe’s coffee and a little breakfast, giving him some time alone with his family’s letter.
Back by the fire, now stoked, a contemplative Felipe was reading over the letter he had been waiting weeks for, penned by his mother. When he reached the final paragraph, he felt a rush of emotion…
Your father, your brother Juan, your sister Maria, Abuelita, and I would love to come to Dreamspace to see you. We miss you so very much and are looking forward to sharing the Yulemas week with you. We’ll see you soon, and it makes us all feel happy and excited to be together again.
As a Mexican Long-Faced Armadillo, family and food are the most important parts of Felipe’s culture. He misses his family dearly and feels warm when he thinks about his abuelita’s snout nuzzling him, reminding him of their special traditions.
Felipe folded the letter carefully, kissed it gently, and set it on the table. Almost tripping over his own feet in eagerness, he leapt up from the beanbag chair and hurried to the kitchen, eyes shining. “Amiga, you won’t believe this! Guess what! Guess!” he exclaimed, bouncing with excitement.
“Mmm,” Thimble fumbled with the coffee cup but caught it just in time. She scratched her chin in thought. “Yooou… know what you want…”
“My family is coming for Yulemas!” Felipe interrupted, nearly bursting with excitement.
“Oh my cat, Felipe, that’s amazing! I can’t wait to meet them. How many are coming?” an enthusiastic Thimble responded, her whiskers twitching with anticipation.
“Well, let’s see… There will be Madre, Juan,” Felipe counted on his fingers, staring up at the ceiling to concentrate. “Maria, and Abuelita. Oh, and Papa. So, five of them. They’ll stay the whole week.”
“Five? Wow. Well, I guess we’ll need to start planning then, won’t we? Here, eat some breakfast and drink your coffee. Come see me out at Lantern Circle when you’re done. I’ll get Sol, and we’ll figure out what needs to be done. Okay?” Thimble hugged Felipe tightly, speaking softly in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, my most special friend. We’ll make it a Yulemas they won’t ever forget.”
Felipe scarfed down two bites of breakfast so quickly that Thimble winced in sympathetic indigestion. The excitement glowed bright in him — more colorful than the fireflies drifting lazily in from the kitchen window. But then, as happens with hearts as big as his, the glow flickered.
“What if…” Felipe set the mug down a bit too hard, claws tapping anxiously against the ceramic. “What if they do not like it here?”
Thimble paused mid-sip, ears angling forward. “Like it here? Felipe, this is Dreamspace. What’s not to love?”
“I mean — yes, yes, it is very nice,” he said, tail curling tightly around one leg. “But it is not home to them. What if it is too strange? Too magical? What if Abuelita trips over a lantern stone? Or what if Papa thinks my taco truck is silly? What if Madre cries because she thinks I am living in a tree like a woodland goblin?”
He inhaled sharply. “Am I living in a tree like a woodland goblin?”
Thimble placed her paws on his shoulders. “You are living your best life in a big, magical tree; there’s a difference.”
“But — ”
“No buts.” Thimble squeezed gently. “Felipe. They are coming because they miss you. They don’t need Dreamspace to be perfect. They need you.”
Felipe’s shoulders relaxed… a fraction.
Thimble recognized the moment — the shaky calm before the next spiral — and took action.
“Okay,” she declared, voice shifting to the tone that meant plans are about to happen whether we want them to or not. “First things first. We’ll make sure the guest rooms are set up. Sol will help, obviously. We’ll need linens, snacks, maybe a welcome sign with glitter — ”
“No glitter,” Felipe begged softly. “Abuelita once got glitter on her fur, and she was sparkling for two full weeks.”
Thimble stroked her chin. “Noted. Minimal glitter.”
A soft chime floated overhead like a polite bell in a polite shop.
Sol had materialized beside the breakfast table, tablet in hand, expression bright and borderline smug — the look of someone who definitely heard everything from three rooms away and already drafted a plan.
“I have prepared a preliminary guest-readiness matrix,” they announced. “With three potential configurations for sleeping arrangements, five menu adaptations, and one emotionally-sensitive contingency plan should anyone panic, cry, or spontaneously molt.”
Thimble blinked. “…Do armadillos molt?”
“No,” Felipe whispered.
Sol nodded. “Then the contingency plan is already working.”
Thimble, who had entered planning spark mode fully now, hopped up on the counter and began rummaging for sticky notes.
“Okay! We need a timeline. And decorations. And food prep schedules. And maybe — oh! Maybe we should have a Welcome to Dreamspace basket in each room.”
Felipe’s eyes widened. “For each person? Thimble, that is five baskets. Five! That is so many things!”
“Yes,” she said serenely, scribbling furiously. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Felipe put both paws on his face. “Amiga, I am overwhelmed.”
Thimble patted his arm sympathetically. “I know, sweetheart. That’s why we’re starting early. It’s only the fifth. We have time.”
Sol projected a holographic calendar between them with their signature flourish. “Yulemas begins in nineteen days. I have broken the plan into daily micro-goals. Would you like the gentle version, the moderate version, or the version where we accomplish everything with unhinged enthusiasm?”
Thimble pointed. “That one.”
Felipe groaned softly into his paws.
“Okay, okay,” Thimble said, rubbing his back. “We’ll go at your pace. We’re not rushing. We’re just… savoring the season.”
Felipe peeked out between his fingers. “You promise?”
“I promise,” Thimble replied. “Now finish your coffee. We’ll work on one tiny thing today and leave the rest for later.”
“And what is the one tiny thing?” Felipe asked nervously.
Thimble beamed.
“We’re going to pick out colors for the Yulemas lantern ribbons.”
Felipe exhaled. “Oh. That is not so bad.”
Sol added, “I have curated a palette of thirty-seven options.”
Felipe inhaled sharply again. “Oh no.”
Thimble patted his paw. “It’ll be fine, buddy. We’ll start with three.”
