En Donde Murió Ella

Chapter 1: On the way to...

 In the years of my childhood, my parents moved to a town far from the capital, where we didn't know anyone. My father, a tall, stocky brown-haired man with a pointed mustache who was in his forties at the time, had been a lawyer since he was twenty-six; My mother, a woman of thirty-nine years old at that time, who was a housewife, she sewed and knitted half of her free time, the other taught school to me, the only child since marriage.

She hid the despair but it was expressed through her light brown eyes that she was discouraged about leaving our old but cozy home behind, on the other hand, my father, who was never so expressive, denoted a tense and cold feeling in his atmosphere of our new house; Although he smiled at me and his dear wife every time we passed by, he could not appease his penury.

–You will meet new children! -She told me in an encouraging tone- I will take you to the center of town, I think there is a fountain there, I heard him say before making a trip here.

–I have heard about a family nearby that has a girl your age –my mother told me– I will knit a vest to your size and I will start baking some rolls, we will visit them at dusk.

I responded with brutal silence, while my father held me on one of his knees sitting on a leather sofa covered with a wool quilt made by my mother's soft and charming hands.

We went to visit the house of Mrs. Dupont, that neighboring family; An elegant lady with a certain finesse in her speech but very humble and kind, she offered us to go to her home, she had a Virgin Mary hanging, a few paintings and a room furnished with flowers and multiple decorations.

Khloe, that girl my age, dressed in a printed dress that extended to her knees, was wearing black sneakers and white socks; She called me to play in her bedroom, where she had two rag dolls and a little cardboard house where the two of us barely entered together.

Years passed and I was already twelve, my mother, at forty-six years old, suffered from internal anguish that led to her death. Depression is called depression these days. I don't know what led her to feel it, but I lost her because of it. She never stopped telling me how strong I could be, and how she adored her husband, whom she had been with since her youth. On the other hand, my father pushed my spirits up, while his spirits went down. 

Not long after my mother's death, my father fell ill with the same sadness that she suffered from, I was left alone in that chilling house; Right there was where my friend Khloe's mother took me in, that same lady my mother asked us to visit when we had just arrived in town; My life was improving as the years went by, I grew up with my friend from that childhood that had begun when I arrived here, Khloe Dupont became my sister and her mother became mine, I went through moments of anguish where I managed to survive thanks to my second opportunity to have a thoughtful family, I had a room furnished with memories of my parents, I placed a corner where I only had space for a perfume with their aroma, my bed made of the sewn sheets that my mother made, and next to the window Overlooking a forest that breathed fresh air was that sofa with the same wool quilt from the first day where my father supported me planning to visit what would be my home in the future.