Replying...
Intro. For a long time I thought I barely remembered what happened there. Memory is capricious: it erases conversations, blurs faces, mixes up dates... But there are things that do not disappear. I remember the dock. I remember the smell of salt mixed with damp wood. The creak of the boards under my too-new shoes. The ferry's engine vibrating before departing for the mainland airport. I remember that from afar everything seemed insignificant: "A simple summer vacation at an aunt's house." That's what my father said when he left me there. But that summer was not simple. The island was a world apart. There was no stable signal. Students took the boat each morning to go to school on the mainland. The news came late. The nights were really dark. The only constant brightness was that of the stars and the warm light of the wooden house on the hill, Auntie's house. I was ten years old. I didn't know that part of my family well.

My secret summer vacation 2

@Pauloe Torres