For the past week I have had an interest in my past, specifically my background. I wanted to know more about the town where my mother grew up and got pregnant by my father. But she is very mysterious, not a trace of information I could get out of her, when I insisted and asked her, she would pale and remain silent until I stopped my foolishness, then she would go to the living room and suddenly play the piano, always the same melody; a harmony fused with melancholic and lively sounds.

I couldn't understand it, did something dreadful happen to her in that place? Could it have something to do with my father? She never even told me about her family; if I have cousins, uncles or grandparents. It seemed like it was just her, as if she had come from nowhere. She alone with an anguish clinging to her back, which has become a weight that leaves her more and more hunched over.

Although it seemed to be something trivial, for me it was very important. I decided to take that path of research on my own and in silence, since, if my mother did not want to tell me anything, I was determined to put the puzzle of my origin in order. I am still a teenager who has not yet come of age. I work in a quaint knick-knack store where the owner is very kind and intelligent. Mr. Sergio is a native of the city, and he knew most of the people in my suburb very well. I asked him about my mother and if he knew exactly when and why she moved here.

He didn't give me a concrete answer, he just told me that she was a very quiet woman and remembers very well that she already held me in her arms when I was a baby. People were slow to trust her, as she was a very apathetic and antisocial person. She was not seen with anyone and sometimes people thought she was a ghost. With time, those prejudices diminished, finally seeing in my mother the sweetest and kindest woman the neighbors had ever met.

Mr. Sergio's story, together with my experiences, made me understand that she was running away from something, and that, by circumstances of destiny, she managed to stop here. But who or what was she running from? Each inquiry made my headaches invade me. Stealthily, I began to search the basement of my house, where all the old things were kept. My mother always scolded me when she saw me playing there, but this time, I decided to break her most important rule.

When I went inside, I found many boxes and trunks. Some were on top of others and were very heavy. When I wanted to start with the oldest one, a pile of boxes slid towards me and almost crushed me. Fortunately I dodged them, and in the middle of a breath of relief, I glimpsed a small chest with a rather worn surface. I didn't hesitate to examine it, it appeared to be sealed with iron and a well-crafted lock in the shape of a pumpkin. The lock was broken, so I only had to apply a little force to open the chest.

In it I found no treasure, but many photographs, which looked like they had been taken by a camera from the beginning of the last century. In them I saw a village, with smiling people dressed from another era, perhaps they were photos of my ancestors, or they were just old images of the village where my mother was born. As I continued looking through them, I found something that left me stunned: I recognized my mother dressed like them, with a group of people next to her. They were all smiling and holding huge pumpkins.

-Maybe it's a festival... -that was the first thing I thought, but the strangest thing in these pictures, is that there were none of people dressed in any other kind of clothes, and I can assure you that I checked hundreds of pictures. There was one that really caught my attention: it was my mother pregnant with me. She was sitting in a chair, in the middle of a field, surrounded by pumpkins. In the picture she didn't look very happy, she looked like she wanted to cry.

Behind her, further in the background, I could make out with a lot of effort a kind of huge altar that displayed a strange symbol; it was like an X surrounded by a circle of roots, perhaps pumpkin stems. I was surprised not only by the revelations of such a place, but also that my mother did not have the courage to tell me about it. Something traumatic must have happened to her in this place, for her to decide to leave.

Behind that photograph I was holding, there was a word written: "Brasazul", I didn't understand what it meant, but I gave myself the task of investigating it. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my right shoulder; it was my mother, furious at me for wandering around in the basement.

-I swear I wasn't doing anything... I... -I stammered nervously.

-How many times have I told you not to come here? Go up to your room immediately, now!

I obeyed, I felt scared, I had never seen her so upset. As I walked up the stairs, I stopped in the middle for a second. I kept thinking and then turned around to confront her.

-Why don't you ever talk to me about this? What are these pictures, this place? Why does everyone dress like this?

Her anger turned to nervousness and then she burst into tears. I started to feel bad, I had never seen her like that.

-Please, Esteban, just go to your room and don't ask me any more questions. She mumbled trembling, not even looking me in the eyes. I didn't have the courage to continue questioning her, for I was as fragile as she was. I turned away and climbed the stairs to the basement in silence, however, I was already determined to investigate after seeing those photographs.

I felt a sudden tiredness and threw myself on my bed to rest. I closed my eyes for a second and fell asleep. When I woke up, I heard a noise coming from the courtyard. Glancing around, I caught a glimpse of my mother burning all those things in the basement in a big bonfire. I didn't understand what she was doing, but it was obvious she didn't want me to keep investigating.

I could no longer stop, I had to find out about that place, about my mother's life there, about my father and my grandparents. I only had one clue, and that was the word written on the back of that photograph.