During the summer, at night, I would lie on the lawn and watch the stars. Ever since I was little, whether I was happy or sad. I would just do it. I would think of nothing else and just admire the shining if the stars. They were shining one by one as if they prepared a show for me. Every night I would make up a story about them or I would pick a shape and try to make it such as an umbrella, an octopus, etc. What was really momentous for me was that even though they were nonexistent since a long time ago, they would still shine. The first time I discovered this, I felt a stroke in my heart and I astonishingly smiled, believing they would appear every night only for me.

Some were more brilliant than others. Even though it has always been a peaceful moment for me, there was a time I could only see harsh and anger in them.
When I was twelve I met May. She was riding her bike followed by her brother on the way to bring flowers to the market. A bucket fell from her bike near my house. As I was outside, I run to help her. In spite of this incident, she was laughing; I’ve never seen someone who was as happy, joyful as her. One day, she invited me to paint her living room in yellow. Her family thought it would bring the sun in their house. The family was particularly attached to symbolism and it found beauty everywhere.
According to May, the stars represented the people we have lost. At some point, I’d like to think the most brilliant ones were the people I loved the most and I lost.
Little by little, everyone in my family abandoned me. It started with my father accompanied by my once beloved brother; I was only five. Nevertheless, they were all to me, they just drove away. My mother used to tell me that it was for our best. They were not sufficient for us and they did not deserve our love.

In 2005, before the summer I turned thirteen, my grandfather left our already devastated world. Ultimately, I remembered what May told me. Thinking he looked upon me the night was my only comfort. It was my only hope. Surprisingly, the night he passed away, one star distinguished herself from the others.
My grand father was the most important person to me. Days after his death, I felt as an outsider. Everyone kept going on whereas I was still in this bubble wondering where the exit was. For me, there was no exit. I did not know where the air came from, where the voices, the laugh came from. I was left in a sense of confusion, I felt lost without him.
By establishing my education, he shaped the person I am today. For him, my music education was more important than anything else. Whenever I played piano, he was the most joyful man. He transmitted me his love for music, for piano. Each time I performed, the notes became more and more perfect until I began to be familiar with the piece.

At the beginning of this bubbling moment, my hands were unable to play; they would bock on the keyboard. Without the help of May’s family, I couldn’t have overcome this. I preferred this family to my mother. She was too occupied to try to forget my father, even after all these years.
This family was extremely talented and cultured. May sung beautifully; her voice brought me to heavens. She could have done miracles with it. Her two sisters Mary and Alicia played piano and violin. All the days long, their house was fulfilled by music, joy and laugh. I never caught them crying or angry. But every family has its secrets. Contrarily to me, there was so much intimacy and unity in this family that they could manage to not get too much touched by the events.
I was afraid to show my knowledge to a such protean family. When May noticed I hadn’t played for a while, she took to every Sunday meeting. It was an advice from her mother. Apparently, this would give me the will to play again. Although I enjoyed the Sunday music, my hands did not respond. I feared my motivation to play died along with my grand father; I would still imagine in my head the partition. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was an image of notes. I was in an all different world, filled by airs, sonatas, symphonies where I imagined myself playing. I was so close to the skin of the bubble that I could touch it. Nevertheless, every time I sat in front of my piano, my arms, my hands not even my fingers would move. I cried all the time. I couldn’t realize it was happening. My life was a disaster. My grand father was gone, I have lost my passion and my mother didn’t talk anymore to me. All I had was this family. I was still urging myself to transcend this depression. One day I was at their house. The three sisters played and sang as they usually do and tears showed up in my eyes. I would never have this type of life. I felt unlovable. If I ever died, who was going to look after me? Who is going to miss me? I ran into the little gardening house. My sadness turned into anger. I was shaking as if my body urged me to act. I reluctantly threw the plants on the walls; I had no control on my body. Hearing the sound, their mother joined me in the house. I confessed her all my thoughts. Suddenly, she told me everything I needed to hear:

“Listen to me, you are not unlovable, there is love all around you. You do not have to be this way because of your grand father. He wouldn’t have like you to put you in all these moods. He would prefer you to be enjoyable. Your upset and you dismay should not be in your heart. You should replace it with love and happiness because we all love you. We’ll never abandon you”

By saying so, she took me into her arms; I finally felt secure enough to distinguish the light of the exit. These words demonstrated me the sufficient love I needed. The following day, my mother came to take me up. She was upset I did not call her during all these days. Sometimes, she realized I still existed and I wasn’t gone; Normally, she did not really care about me, I represented the real world for her, nothing else. As she forcefully grabbed my arm, the three sisters and their mother entered the house. It was clear I wanted to stay with them. When my mother left the house, she wished me good luck. Now I do not regret my act. It was better for the two of us to separate. She did not choose to be a mother and I needed a family I could count on.

Few months later, I finally played piano. My eyes closed, my hands were flying over the keyboard. I was in another world, a peaceful, warm and secure world where depression fled away. I came back to my world. As I closed my eyes, I pictured myself playing in a room and my grand father was present.
I recovered my losses, I didn’t have to carry the weight of all this guilty, this suffer anymore. I can think about these losses with peace.