My Get-Away

When I was little, my family and I always traveled to Temuco. There we had cows, for that reason my dad always had to go.
I remember that we stayed three or four weeks at my aunt's house.

The house was big and old, the wooden floor sounded "crash, crash" when you walked on every morning I wake up with the moo of a cow.

In the morning I loved feel the smell of freshly baked bread and the warmth of the wood stove. My aunt also always sang old ballads of love minwhile she was preparing lunch.

It always makes me smile that my aunt started very early to prepare food, and in a 2 *3 all disappeared into our mouths.

After breakfast I came out to the "backyard" and I stayed under a tree reading, sleeping or perhaps repeating the ballad of my aunt.

It was the only place where I did not care if I listen music, watch movies and go to bed early.
Even that I liked beacuse when I should go to bed early, the next day we were going to milk. The funny thing is I did not like (and do not like) milk so fresh and natural.


It wasn' t a extraordinary place, much less to go as a tourist, but I loved it.
Years ago we stopped going. The aunt died and dad sold the cows. The place became property of a lost cousin.
But still, there are times when I close my eyes and I can feel the voice of Aunt : "Me escondes el pijama y extiendes el mantel, un descuido y tus regalos se manchan de café"