7/8/11

It was a normal day, the sun is shining brightly, my dog is barking endlessly, my father was in the kitchen cooking for our breakfast, my mom is sewing her dress. Everything was fine until someone knocked at the door. I opened the door and saw a woman standing elegantly with high heels, and shiny pieces of jewelry. She said, "Is there any Peter Hidalgo who lives in this house." I hope I never say yes. Who knows that a knock on the door and a yes from me will get my father killed?

Everything happened in one snap of a finger. I saw police officers going in and out of our house, investigators who keep asking my mother. It's weird because for a moment I cant hear my dog's bark, I felt like someone's calling my name but at the same time, I do not. My father grabbed me and whispered he's sorry. He is crying when that word escapes from his mouth. I feel nauseous, weird, but at the same time curious about what's happening around me.

When the police officers finally leave. I talked to my mom, I asked her endless questions. She did not mind me and continue to sew her dress. I ran inside my room, and now I am sitting. Writing in this piece of notebook hoping that tomorrow we'll be okay. Father, why are you sorry? Mother, why won't you answer my questions?

-Maria