An explosion of fuchsia and magenta,

Bright green leaves and small white flowers.

Wild paper flower, Santa Rita,

Myth says it brings luck and energy

To those who care for it. My grandparents Nélida and Osvaldo

Named their country house in Pacheco Santa Rita,

After the colorful climbing plant that adorned

The entrance gate next to two stone lions.

Blowing out the candles, making three wishes

And letting my brother Polo take

A bite of the cake

In his second birthday in 1985

With the whole family at the country house

At a huge table together eating barbecue

Prepared by Grandpa Osvaldo in the barbecue hut and

Salads and desserts made by my mother and aunts.

Celebrating with hamburgers, soda,

And a huge candy kiosk 

At my sisters Flori and Manu’s costume party,

Where everyone could dress up as whatever they wanted 

With lots of clothes and colorful costumes

And Flori dressed up as a queen, my aunt Nora as a monkey,

My mother as a tiger, and I as a biker

With a black leather jacket and a blue motorcycle helmet.

Camping with my cousins Pepe, Nico, and Luli

Where we pitched a tent in the backyard

Next to the house and slept in sleeping bags

Telling scary stories and jokes with our flashlights

On a beautiful night lit up

By the stars and bright fireflies

While our parents chatted in the kitchen

And my grandfather and uncles played chess seriously.

The sunset when we put on plays

With my siblings and cousins,

And great-grandmother Tata taught us “Auld Lang Syne,”

That melancholic melody

That I will always carry in my heart

Like an early farewell song

For those we love who are no longer here.

The light fades, the sun hides…

Water fights with colorful water balloons

In buckets, hose fights,

Sunbathing and swimming

With my family in the pools

For adults, children, and babies

Next to the 30-meter araucaria tree

That my grandparents planted when

My mother was a girl.

Shooting with my father Charo

At bottles and cigarettes

With air rifles,

Washing his beloved burgundy Peugeot 404 Rural

And playing with the German Shepherds

Rocky and Rambo and the Siberian Husky Inú,

Or riding the horses

Muñeco, Guida, and Rayito Veloz.

Climbing our favorite tree with my siblings,

Perfect for climbing really high,

Building forts with reeds from the reed bed,

Venturing into the scary forest next to the country house

And being surprised by spiders or other insects,

Playing tennis on the clay court

Or a hard-fought game of paddle

When it became fashionable in Argentina.

Trees laden with fruit

Along the stone entrance path,

Figs, tangerines, lemons, and quinotos,

A spice garden with mint and basil,

A shed for tools and spare parts,

Chopping wood for the grill,

Planting trees and gathering

Pinecones and nuts with Grandpa.

These are the things I remember

When I see a Santa Rita,

That magical place that no longer exists

And I miss my family memories,

Especially those who are no longer here,

Like my father and my grandparents,

Knowing that they are still with me

Through their small and big gestures.