Penumbra

Family Issues

I made a call back home, eagerly awaiting the familiar voices that never failed to bring me joy. Himmelsburg, my current residence, had its charm, but my family's presence and memories of my homeland always stirred a deep sense of nostalgia within me.

"¡Hola! Who's there?" my cousin Sofia cheerfully exclaimed upon answering the call.

"It's me, Gonzalo. How's everyone doing?" I replied, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

"Oh, my boy! We're all fine, a bit busy, but we wanted to find a way to call you without breaking the bank. Your uncle Pablo was checking out some plans," my father Pedro Garcia explained.

Pedro, a strong and weathered man who worked in a copper mine, bore the physical marks of a life filled with hardships. His once curly black hair now showcased hints of gray, and his calloused hands, roughened by work, were always covered in dirt and blisters. He and my hardworking mother, who joined him in maintaining our household, were a team. Besides his mining work, my father had a passion for mechanics. Whenever he had spare time, he would send me to his friend Pablo's workshop to learn about cars and work with various materials.

"For now, the call is affordable. I wanted to talk to Sofia. I heard she has Internet access there, so we could chat on Messenger," I replied, trying to steer the conversation.

"Yes! She's actually here with us. We had a little celebration because she got accepted into the music institute in Santiago. She's a born talent, just like you, son!" my father proudly shared.

"That's fantastic news! Dad, can I speak with her? Let's arrange a video call so I can catch up with everyone," I requested eagerly.

"Oh, sure!" my father exclaimed, calling out to Sofia in the background. "Sofi! Gonza is calling! Come here!"

Sofia grabbed the phone and greeted me with enthusiasm. "¡Hola, Gonza! How are you? It's been a while since we heard from you."

We chatted about her new career as a singer in the philharmonic orchestra in Santiago, setting a date for a family video call via Messenger. Two days passed, and Sunday arrived. I sat down with a cup of coffee while Merlin, my beloved cat, nestled comfortably on my lap. The little furball loved seeking warmth and cuddling. With my wife Marie by my side, I turned on our Windows PC, ensuring the camera was ready for the call. As a precaution, I always removed the camera when not in use-I tended to be cautious, sometimes even bordering on paranoid.

"¡Hola, Gonza!" Sofia exclaimed, waving her hands at us. Marie sat beside me, eagerly waiting to join the conversation.

My father and mother were seated behind Sofia, and a sense of guilt washed over me. It had been months since I last tried calling them, almost half a year without checking my missed calls.

"Son, we're sorry we didn't try to call you during this time. We thought you might be too busy with work and the baby," my mother Clara expressed apologetically.

Clara Morales, my mother, was a strong woman who battled diabetes without letting it hinder her hard work or the cleanliness of our home. She was always there for me, especially when it came to my medical treatments. We didn't own a TV until later, and our diet was modest, just enough to sustain us.

"But now we have Messenger, so we can send messages and have video calls more often. Our internet connection isn't the best, but with the help of our parents, we managed to install a router!" Sofia cheerfully interjected.

Santa Maria, my hometown, situated in the Atacama desert, didn't boast many attractions. It consisted of houses, a beach, dunes, rocks, and cacti. The climate was harsh and dry, seemingly forgotten by time. Mining and fishing were the primary means of survival, and the days felt long while the nights were fleeting. As a child, I despised the sand and the scorching sun that mercilessly burned my skin, even though they say people with naturally darker skin aren't as prone to sunburns. But as soon as I tanned, my skin peeled off, returning me to my light brown complexion. Yet, amidst all that, I cherished a few things about my birthplace. The nights were crystal clear, and the sight of the Milky Way traversing the sky always fascinated me. I also adored witnessing the magnificent sunsets on the horizon, turning the sky and sea into a mesmerizing shade of orange. Sometimes, I dreamed of the sea, yearning for the scent of the fresh salty wind that greeted us daily.