Serrat and the discovery of poetry

By Alba Medina

When I was a child I lived with my mother and aunts in a huge house in Ecatepec. Since they all worked outside the house, Saturday mornings were spent changing sheets, sweeping floors, soaping hallways, washing clothes, shaking furniture and whatever else had accumulated during the week.

I, who hardly lived with them during the week, loved to go from one room to another and watch them, listen to them. They would organize themselves in pairs to finish faster. But even so, the carrying and carrying of buckets and the squeezing of rags lasted until lunchtime.

On one occasion, I remember that my mother and my aunt Irma had to tidy up the living room together. My mother took the opportunity to tell her a secret and ordered her "very clearly" not to tell anyone. After a few hours they met again, now in one of the bedrooms, and my Aunt Irma told her: "Esther, I'm going to tell you a gossip, but please don't say anything to anyone", and she told her exactly the secret that my mother had "clearly" told her in the living room. From that day on, there is no doubt who is the most gossipy of the Medina sisters.

But that's not the story I wanted to tell.