My father wanted to have a home, a good home.
When they were very young, on the threshold of coming of age.
He met my mother, who was a year older than him.
She was a beautiful woman, she still is.
My father was always very handsome, I don't know if when they met he had a beard.
But, most of the time it was preserved, it was a very well-groomed padlock beard.
He was very handsome.
I would like to say that it still is.
I haven't seen him for many years. At 40.
I haven't seen him for a little over half my life.
A lot of things happened for this to happen.
They were young people against the storm.
They lived in my grandmother's house, their great-grandmother's house, wherever they could.
They would soon be parents, expecting the birth of their first daughter.
With many difficulties and with the support of my maternal grandparents, I was able to pay for the hospital and dress my older sister.
As parents, it is the fruit of their love, their first hope born of the union of the two.
With many shortcomings to overcome.
My maternal grandfather decided to help them.
He got an opportunity at PEMEX for my father, who worked hard to keep the plant. It's hard work that you have to go to every day, but not every day you get a job.
And not all of them.
The more tasks you know, the greater the chance that you will have days of work.
The longer it takes to get 7 years to get on the waiting list for a plant.
That is, working 2555 days.
The matter is complicated if you consider that there were months in which there was a lot, some were given a week or less.
Putting all these days together would take away anyone's desire.
This was once done by my grandfather, who, in his youth, had no one to help him get in.
He ventured out to wash pipes, his perseverance gave him the opportunity.
In spite of everything, they kept going.
With extra jobs.
I think it was the happiest time as a couple.
After a second pregnancy.
Things changed.
My father thought it was right that a boy should come home, but luck had something else in mind.
It wasn't a pleasant time when he found out he would have another woman in the household.
I honestly don't have many memories of my childhood.
Vague memories that, together, tell me about a childhood that was not good.
My earliest memories are of some times when he would get angry with us, he would take us out of the house with what we were wearing, if we were doing well, he would let us take some things.
What I remember very well was the silence.
I never liked silence.
It gave me anxiety, whenever there was silence, it meant that something bad was coming.