“Nana, are you here?” I called as I walked through the big white front door, an oversized, bright red and green Christmas wreath hanging on the front of it. I walked further into the house past the foyer and living room. The smell of delicious ham and steaming black beans and rice greeted me. My nana, bound to her little black wheelchair, was right in the middle of making our Christmas feast. I snuck up behind her, grabbed her shoulders, and yelled, “Merry Christmas!” right in her ear. She screamed in fright and quickly turned around, her eyes bloodshot from all the red onions she had been peeling. She enveloped me in a big hug; her black, uncombed hair smelled like rice, and her apron had bits of peeled carrots on it that transferred to my fancy Christmas outfit. But I didn’t care, it was my nana after all. I would sacrifice anything for one of her hugs.

PING! Nana looked as if she had just been awoken from a trance. She wheeled over to the oven, put on her mitts, and plunged her hands into the “do not touch zone,” the hottest part of the oven. “Bolichi time!” she exclaimed, squealing like a little girl whose parents just surprised her with a new doll.

I frantically looked around for something I could use to help Nana get the massive chunk of meat out of the oven. Just as I was about to reach in and help, my mother walked in and pulled me roughly aside, not wanting me to get burned. She slowly eased out the steaming pan, meat juice spilling onto the floor like droplets of rain, and set it on the countertop. Nana’s dog, Chichi lapped up the juice from the floor.

Soon after, the guests arrived – my aunt first, as usual, followed by my first cousins and Abuelo, all fancied up in his new Rays baseball hat and trimmed mustache. Everyone was quickly moving around the house, eager to prepare the house for the Christmas Eve feast. I dully looked around for something to do, since everyone said I was too little to help out with the food. I glanced toward the living room and a light went off in my brain – the Christmas tree! Frail and bare, the living room Christmas tree was an eyesore, but I was determined to impress Nana by making it the most beautiful, awesome, amazing Christmas tree there ever was! Over an hour later, with plastic icicles hanging in my hair and a trail of beads dragging behind me, I proudly walked over to my nana. She was frantic. No one should be frantic on Christmas Eve, I thought. As soon as she saw me, a big smile appeared on her face, but I could tell she was still upset. “Nana, what’s wrong?” I asked in the most mature voice I could muster, hoping that it would make me sound older than seven.

“Oh, nothing honey. It’ll be alright,” she said, trying to hide her distress.

“Nooo!” I wailed, giving up on the “mature” act and replacing it with a full-on toddler tantrum. “Tell me, tell me pleaseee, Nana!” I begged, curling my lip to form the incredibly famous pouty face that no nana in history could resist.

“Fine,” she replied, leaning in close. She raised her eyebrows and gave me a stern look, and I knew that what she was about to say was super important. “Now, what I am about to tell you is absolutely top secret. That means no one knowing, not even Mommy, ok?” She whispered in my ear. “There isn’t enough food to have Noché Buena,” she said with a serious look on her face.

She stayed silent for a minute, thinking. Then, a smile formed across her face. I knew that face. Nana only made that face when she had an idea, a good idea. “What if we save Noché Buena?” she asked me, grinning from ear to ear. I knew exactly what to do. I strutted into the sunroom, and giving a thumbs-up to my nana, started singing “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. Although “Rolling in the Deep” has nothing to do with Christmas time, its purpose was to grab my fellow family members’ attention so that they would stop thinking about food and focus on me. This clever scheme worked perfectly, until I got tired of singing. Oh no, the plan is failing, I thought. Nana needs more time. So, I did what every smart seven-year-old would do. “Gift time!” I yelled excitedly, wanting to distract my family, but also actually wanting gifts too.

My mom looked at me with a suspicious face, then glanced toward the kitchen where Nana was scurrying to prepare more food.

I quickly cut in front my mom’s view, but she made her way to the kitchen anyway. “Mom!” she exclaimed with a surprised face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were short on rice?”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well, this is serious! We have to start right away! Selah, get out of the kitchen. The adults need to work.”

Nana gave me a sympathetic glance, but politely asked me to leave. I pouted and stalked out of the kitchen. When I was out of their sight, I ran to the bathroom and cried. “Why am I so young and small? Why can’t I help too?” I asked no one. I heard a loud commotion outside, so I hurriedly wiped my tears and walked back into the kitchen. My mother and Nana were both looking at me.

“Selah, would you like to stir the pot?” They asked in unison.

“OF COURSE!” I squealed, and eagerly jumped onto my nana’s lap and stirred the steaming pot of yellow rice. “Nana, look, I did it!” I said happily.

“Yes, you did, you saved Noché Buena!”

We scooped the sticky, steaming rice onto plates for all of our family members to enjoy. After everyone had gotten their food, I followed them into the sunroom where the laughing and talking took place. It had been a couple hours before I realized Nana wasn’t with us.

My mom looked up from her plate and her face softened. “Selah, will you go help Nana wash the dishes?” she asked politely.

“Yeah, sure.” I walked up to the door leading to the kitchen and saw my nana furiously scrubbing dishes and spoons. Come to think of it, she always missed spending time with us to clean up, even in a wheelchair!

“Selah, aren’t you going to help her?” my mom repeated impatiently.

I was in a daze, thinking about how I never realized how much Nana does for us. She missed watching “Elf” with the whole family because she was cleaning up after us; she missed decorating her house for Christmas because she was cleaning up the trash we left from our Cuban sandwiches; and today she missed eating with us because she was washing the dishes! I slowly walked into the kitchen, a dumbfounded look on my face. “Nana, why would you lie to me?”

She turned around quickly, startled. “What are you talking about?”

“You said I saved Noché Buena.”

“You did, you helped me stir the rice.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, I didn’t make the rice, you did. I didn’t always clean up after everyone – you did. I didn’t save Noché Buena, Nana, you did.”

She smiled at me and wrapped me in a big hug. “Thank you, honey.”

“You’re welcome, Nana.”