1947

December 22, Monday

It is Christmas time, and I am ten years old. The year 1947 will be ending soon. I have a new little brother named José, he is two months old. I help Madrasta with all the kids, but I especially like little babies. João turned two in September, and Miriam and I celebrated our birthday together. Miriam is one year old and walking, and she says a lot of words. I love her curly black hair and her dark eyes, and the little shrieky noise she makes when she giggles. Everyone says she is stuck on me, because she won’t let me out of her sight without fussing until I pick her up.

José has soft brown hair and those big blue eyes that follow you around. Madrasta gives him mamar in the living room while the kids are running around and Cacilda and I get lunch ready.

“Eva, are you ready to go back to school next month?”

“Yes, Senhora. I am doing better with my reading and writing. I’m slow but I can read better. And I like seeing my friends again.”

“That’s good, Eva. You know I have to be tough on you, but it is for your own good. I don’t like punishing you so I’m glad you are studying well.”

“Yes, Senhora.”

Madrasta hasn’t punished me in more than a year, since her tummy got big with José. I am allowed to go cook with Dona Francisca two days a week. Madrasta cooks more often too.

There has been no rain for months, and the dust is everywhere. We sweep and clean but right away the dust settles in the corners and on the windowsills again. More people pass through Picuí on their way south to the big city to find work.