Salsa Stories by Lulu Delacre Page A

only and favorite job in the kitchen. She must sprinkle cinnamon over the cool natilla . Abuelita prepared the velvety cream for dessert and filled twenty-five small bowls with it. This dessert is Laura’s favorite, and after carefully studying each bowl, she mischievously covers the fullest one with a blanket of the spice. That’s her way of claiming it.
    Mamá calls everyone to eat. We’ve set the platters on the kitchen counter and people stream in to serve themselves. Then they sit wherever they please at the dining room table, at the kitchen table, or in the living room.
    Abuelito stands up to say grace. He can sometimes go on for quite a long time, for he loves to be the center of attention. And he always ends his prayer with the same old Spanish saying: “ ¡Salud, dinero, amor, y tiempo para disfrutarlos! Health, money, love, and time to enjoyit all!” he says. Everyone is very hungry by the time he finally gets to this part.
    I take a huge mouthful of steaming yuca when Doña Josefa sits next to me.
    â€œDid you like your gift?” she asks.
    I quickly swallow and excuse myself to avoid the embarrassing situation of having to tell her I’ve misplaced it.
    I look again on the entrance table and under it, but the package is gone. In whispers, I ask my parents and some relatives if they have seen it, but no one has. To avoid Doña Josefa, I duck into the kitchen where I find Tía Marilia and Tío Rodolfo. They’ve been lured to the center of the kitchen floor by the dance music that’s become irresistible to them. Gracefully they twirl into each other’s arms and show off their fiery moves. Inspired by her sister-in-law, Mamá pulls me to “the dance floor” to teach me some basic salsa steps. Reluctantly, I follow.
    â€œDon’t look at your feet,” warns Mamá. “Just feel the rhythm of the music.”
    Across the room, I spot Laura next to Alex. I abandon the dance lesson to find out if she has seen my missing gift. Before I can ask, Alex topples the little rooster that was perched on the hand-carved nativity scene. And while Laura carefully rearranges the pieces, Alexhas moved on to playing with something else. I peer over his shoulder to find he’s trying to unwrap a brown package. It’s my gift!
    â€œOh, Alex,” I say. “Let me help you with that.”
    I let him unwrap the small parcel, then give him the wrapping paper to play with. He seems quite happy to noisily rustle and crinkle the paper.
    My gift from Doña Josefa is a book filled with blank pages and covered with a red fabric sprinkled with daisies. Inside I find an inscription:
    Dear Carmen Teresa,
    When I was your age, I kept a journal in a book just like this one. I hope you’ll find a treasured use for yours, as I did for mine.
    Doña Josefa
    â€œShow me!” demands Laura. A smug look comes over her face when she sees the book. She is pleased that it is not something she likes better than her doll.
    Relieved to have found the gift, I run to Doña Josefa to thank her.
    â€œWhat should I write in this book?” I ask her.
    Doña Josefa’s creased face lights up with her smile. “There are many things you can write,” she says. “Perhaps you will want to keep a journal, like I did.”
    â€œOr,” offers Abuelita, “you could write about things that have happened to you when you were younger.”
    â€œYes. Or maybe, you could collect stories from our family and friends,” suggests Mamá, “since everyone is here today.”
    â€œStories — ahh, ¡cuentos! ” calls Abuelito from his seat at the dining room table where he has been eavesdropping. “I have a great story for your book, Carmen Teresa. But first,” he says in his deep voice, “Abuelita, bring me more of that wonderful arroz con pollo , please.”
    Abuelita nods to Flor, who quickly refills his plate.
    Abuelito