“Mama,” he said in a broken voice as he knelt before her. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have left you here. I want to take you to live with me. In my house.” It’s big, comfortable… you deserve to rest.

Doña Elena felt tears streaming down her face, unstoppable.

“Oh, son… I never asked you for anything…”

“That’s exactly why, Mama,” he said, taking her hands. “Let’s go today. Now!”

Diego insisted so much that she agreed. She packed three changes of clothes, the old photograph, and a small wooden box containing her husband’s last letters.

During the trip to Mexico City, Doña Elena stared out the window like a lost child: lights, tall buildings, constant noise… a world that seemed more alien to her than ever.