An afternoon in which dying sun, since already many evenings, lying on the floor of our old mansion from Chulucanas, it looked engrossed, as a strongman man wielding its strength with a hard metal, I didn’t know if it was Tarzan or Tawa – heroes of old comic book – but looking at it well I discovered with amazement that it was my father! It was don Miguelito palaces (was well known in my land – because he was a good man-) and all my childhood lived Recalling and comparing the strongman man with the robust carob trees of my people, the same bass whose shadows we did NAP looking Green Prairie of valleys Alto Piura, contemplating the mysterious and imposing Hill VICUS whose bowels were hiding stories, huacos and treasures, breathing the fresh breeze of the evenings dreaming a better future, learning from him that reptan reptiles and birds flying and always taught us to fly, everytime we escalabamos the hill we repetias we are at the top, that it was the goal, which was the leitmotif for fight in life taught us to believe in God, us you taught to climb as goalkeeper in the seal of the salt you finished as Inspector of the Banco de la Nacion, taught us to pick ourselves up after falls learning from each failure. Today many years have passed, we are still together and we have nothing to claim to life, we live always happy, enjoying with what we had, nothing little or regular, the biological course you has become flabby, hoary and above have you finished in the operating theatres of the INEN from Lima to face a degenerative process, you’ve faced with pride the Radiochromicyou’ve endured with stoicism the always difficult moments of face a cancer and there’re in your 80s, wearing your strength of spirit, of that same spirit that you accompanied always, as a devotee of Santa Rosa de Lima and San Martin de Porres and when the inexorable course of life take you to the Supreme night and you’re alone with Godsitting in a pan balance and you have to give an account of your actions, you have to make a summary of your life don’t be afraid! your Julia Celi inseparable from Palaces and your children have nothing to claim you, you reprochamos anything! (who like you, do not know how I envy you). Don Miguelito palaces, have met there in the village always is Green Prairie, leafy carob, the fresh breeze of the evening, the imposing cerro and the flight of birds, the always difficult summit and there will be your! will find there and in every gesture of charity, kindness, solidarity there you’ll be you, there you will find and meanwhile, enjoy your aging knowing you loved by yours old i mi querido viejo!