December 24, Thursday

“Eva, sit down and put your feet up. You don’t need to be worrying about cooking and you need to keep up your strength because this baby will be here any day now.” Sónia has been fussing over me for the last week.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll just finish making the sugared fruit centerpiece for the table. It won’t take me more than a few minutes.”

Sónia shakes her head. “All right, but only a few minutes. Your ankles are puffy and I know the heat bothers you.”

“I really hope this baby comes in the next couple of days. The doctors are so impatient, not like Dona Severina. She always let Madrasta go for a week or more after her due date, because God knows best. On Tuesday the doctor offered to break the bag of water around the baby and give me a drug to start labor. He acted like I was a simpleton when I said I’d rather wait.”

“Well, things are more modern here. Sometimes we have to change with the times.”

“In this case, I think the old ways are better. The doctors act like pregnancy is a disease. I wish I could have the baby at home, but I know it has to be in the hospital.”

“It will be fine, Eva, it’s not your first child. Once labor starts I bet it goes quickly.”

“If God wills.”

I can hear the kids shrieking with excitement as they run around playing in the backyard. Luiz and Chico went to pick up the toys from the local shop, and they’ll hide them in a closet until the kids are asleep. We’ll eat our dinner at midnight and put the kids to bed before setting the gifts out for them to find in the morning. All the cousins can talk about is Papai Noel.

It’s almost seven o’clock and nearly dark. The table on the veranda looks beautiful and I sit in the yard under the guava tree with my feet propped up. I hear Luiz and Chico come through the gate, chatting and laughing.

“Let’s have some music!” Luiz brings out the Victrola, putting on some country music with accordion, tingling triangle and thumping zabumba, Luiz Gonzaga singing his classic song about what he left behind in the Northeast because of the drought, and how much he misses his home.

Just before midnight the roast chicken and potatoes, grilled meat, a beautiful salad, rice and beans are brought to the table. A true feast that only happens once a year. Carlos says a prayer for us and everyone digs into the delicious food. After dessert the kids are sleepy and also eager to go to bed so Papai Noel will come and leave presents for them.

I sit while the adults clear the table and do the dishes and Luiz and Chico set the presents out for the kids. Carlos is going to be thrilled with his fire truck, which is just like a real one. Luiz and I sit outside in the yard looking up at the night sky glittering with stars. The moon is high in the sky.

“Look Luiz, the moon is waning, almost the last quarter.”

He laughs. “I’m always amazed at how you know the phases of the moon. I never paid attention to that stuff, growing up.”

“Papai taught me to look up at the moon, and that if I can hold the round part in my left hand it’s waxing, getting bigger, and my right hand, waning, getting smaller.”

“One thing is for sure, it’s a beautiful sky.” He reaches for my hand and we sit together quietly, listening to the night sounds and watching for shooting stars. You can make a wish when you see one, but you can’t say what it is or it won’t come true.