At home, after my grandmother's death, we were my two parents and their 5 children. Then, my older sister, my younger sister, and my only brother left the house and it was just my two parents, a younger sister to me, and me. This sister, Nohelys, and I were studying (my other two sisters married young and left university) and we also didn't have boyfriends. So we had no plans to leave home anytime soon.

It is essential to say that I have always had an excellent relationship with my parents. Unlike my sisters, I felt that I could talk to my parents calmly about any topic: politics, sex, friendship, economics. When my sisters felt embarrassed or scared to ask our parents something, I simply went and asked them:

I like that boy. If he asks me to be his girlfriend, should I say yes? I would drop the bomb and wait, with all the seriousness in the world, for my parents to advise me as objectively as possible.

So when I had a boyfriend and started having a formal relationship with him, I tried to maintain the same communication with my parents.

_This weekend we are going to the beach.

Since I had shown signs of maturity, my parents only warned me to take care of myself.

I don't know from what moment, but I started taking my things to my boyfriend's house. Since he lived alone, it was better to be at his house than at mine. At first, it was casual: I left a dress or a blouse; then I took my records, some books, and even some creams and perfumes. As I occupied a new space, my old space began to feel empty.

I hadn't completely left home: one could say I lived there 5 weekdays, next to my parents and my sister. But once, my boyfriend and I decided to go on a trip to Mérida. We planned to be away for almost a month. During the trip, I called my parents to see how they were, and although everything seemed normal, there was something that didn't add up: my parents were reserved, not very enthusiastic, as if they didn't want to talk to me. That treatment felt strange to me and I asked:

_Is something wrong?

_Nothing - they told me curtly, and I preferred not to delve into the matter.

The problem blew up in my face when I got back. My parents had packed all my things and my dad ordered me to get married immediately. 'What???' was my exclamation, and my father laid out his social, moral, and even civil arguments. I remember that, after a long discussion, I said to him directly, with all the power that was taken away from all the women in the world:

_If you care so much about what people will say, I'm leaving the house, but I will never get married, especially not because I'm forced to.

That day, I saw it in my father's eyes, he realized that I had grown, that I already had wings to fly and that although he would have liked to, he could not control my flight. Of course, the move had begun, but not only on the outside, also on the inside: I was clearing out everything old and obsolete, and I had started the remodeling with new beliefs, new thoughts. The change was not like a fire that burns everything, but like a small furrow where a seed is sown that will surely be a great tree in the future..