"...an essay about the worst day of your life...for tomorrow," said the English teacher. Sounds simple, I thought, everybody has been through bad days. So, I realized the challenging part of writing that essay would be searching in the palace of my memory. Then I would choose the worst of those black, cold, wrong and endless days. The math, the chemistry, and the literature teacher were not aware of my English writing project, which was due the next day. Since that was the case, they neither worried nor doubt about filling giant blank spaces on their messy boards with assignments that, supposedly, were the simplest that could exist. And they were due next day.
             After school, I began thinking about my essay for the English class. No good ideas came to my mind. Of course that I have been through bad days, but at that time my mind was busy somewhere else; it was in my uncle's house. I almost forgot! My family and I were visiting uncle Lazaro that afternoon. Anyway, I kept on searching for that lost rainy day; the hunt continued in the palace of my memory. And meanwhile, as the distance between the school and Lazaro's home was getting shorter, the shadows of people in the streets was growing longer.
             I was not deeply worried about the assignments but I noticed I was unconsciously beginning to hurry. Doing homework in the car while my brother "sang" Merry Christmas was not a very pleasant experience. He sang it once, he sang it twice, and then he yelled "merry Christmas and a happy new year!" out of the window, over and over again. What a bad song for this day, I thought, we are in the ides of March, not in December! But my brother did not seemed to care much about it, neither did my youngest brother, who joined joyfully to the fantastic celebration.
             At the garden in the backyard, which seemed to be the only available and quiet place in my uncle's circus, I struggled to gra
             ...