The phone rang about seven times at midnight. No one else woke up, so from some place I found the energy and strength to let go of my dreams and answer the phone. At the other end was the receptionist from the emergency room. She gave me news that I did not want to hear: my sister had been in a car accident.
             I left my house in a hurry, not knowing how my sister was. Hospitals are not the happiest of places. Sad faces are all around, tired bodies, frustrated relatives and a nurse who always seems too calm to be in the emergency room.
             I rushed to speak to the first nurse I saw, and then I thought "Did I leave my lights on? Wait a minute, I forgot to tell mom and dad about the accident." The nurse said to me, "She's getting her x-rays examined." In that moment, as I heard the nurse's tranquility, I felt a relief. I reunited my mind with my body and called my mom.
             Phone ring after ring, and finally the sweet hello of my mother. I told her all I knew at that point, which could probably be said in a single sentence. "Patricia is in the emergency room."
             It sounds to me now like such a simple sentence. At the time, however, it was so difficult to say.
             Three hours in the waiting room and not a word from me, from mom, or from the nurses. Next to me was a family of three, the dad, mom and their teenage daughter. By the looks of them, it appeared that they had been in the hospital for days. They looked tired, but then again how
             can you fall asleep in a place that is so cold and uninviting.
             I thought many things. I remembered my sister's emotional strength. She has always been a strong girl with vigor. Like the time she woke up to go to the bathroom and she saw her image in the mirror and started screaming because there was a little "stranger" copying her every move.
             Suddenly, everything was noisy, yet it felt so distant. My imagination began to answer the questions about...