My phone rang several times before I finally found it at the bottom of my purse. “Where are you?” Santiago, my youngest brother, asked. “I’m at Esteban’s having dinner with friends, Why?.” He calmly said “ Come home”, and without further explanation hung up the phone. It was odd to me that my brother was calling me on a Friday night inquiring about my location, but wasn’t odd enough to make me rush out of the door of my friend's house. My phone rang again “Are you on your way? Come home NOW and bring Esteban with you.” It was then when I knew it. Something was going on, something was wrong. On December 22 nd , 2006 something was about to change in my family, and I had to be there with them. My friend’s house is upon one of the many hills of Medellin. The drive from his house to my parent’s house usually takes 15 minutes without traffic. The road is wide and curved and offers great views of the valley that make up most of the city. I used to enjoy that drive, but tha