I was born in Cuicatlán just after midnight in the Year of the Dark Lord Xolotl. During my long lifetime I first belonged to my family; then I belonged to my husband. I gave birth to thousands of sons and daughters. Most of them lived lives of poverty and suffering and too many died young. They died of diseases brought by the Gachupines. They died in childbirth and in civil war. In time, some sought a better life in El Norte and many made the dangerous trip. 
Some found happiness and a better life there, others did not. In El Norte too many of my sons came to believe the lie that machismo can be found by doing violence to their brothers. Only some learned that the sign of a true man is one who takes care of the children he creates and finds respect in honest work.
In El Norte too many of my daughters were confined to an existence dictated by their husbands. They were denied education and self respect. Those who tried to escape could only find brutalizing work in factories. Others numbed their spirit and sold themselves on the streets to feed their children.
A thousand years have passed. Just before midnight on the last day of the Fifth Sun I died in El Norte. I felt the soothing hand of La Muerte close my eyes for the last time; and as my soul passed into the next world I could only despair. God forgive me! How can a mother teach her children to hope but not to dream?
See review in contratiempo Magazine