A special remembrance is bonded to my childhood. I think I was 7 when I spent the summer with my parents and my two brothers in the country near the Andes mountains.
I did not live with them at that time and they invited me for the holidays. The days were perfect and calm. I enjoyed the frenzied love song of the frogs croaking in the ponds at night; that was the only sound that could be heard under the sky full of stars. During the day I loved to go to a “quinta” with very old trees where the fruits were very small because the trees were so old that they had nothing else to give. I enjoyed looking at his twisted branches that seemed that wanted to scratch the sky, and its barks full of knots and marks.
That summer quietness was suddenly broken when the Llaima volcano began roaring and the earth moved during the day. We went near the river and watched the growing level of the waters as the time passed
The big eruption began in the afternoon when there was still day light and we had to run to a hill to save our lives. Many people and animals died during that eruption. The next day we could see the house and all the surroundings full of sand and rocks, it was very sad, we left and we never return to that place again.