It all started with my mom. She has always loved jewelry.

When I was five years old, her dresser was full of colorful beads, stones, charms, and broken pieces. In Xalapa, where I grew up, the humidity could ruin even the most noble materials, so there was always something waiting to be repaired. I liked to open the drawers and look at everything. I don't know exactly when I started taking some pieces to make my own necklaces and bracelets. I guess it just happened.

What I do remember is that I started selling them.

My parents are teachers. I didn't grow up surrounded by entrepreneurs, designers, or merchants. I didn't know what it meant to start a business. I just knew that there were people who wanted my necklaces and who then gave me money. Money that almost always ended up at the corner store.

For a while, everything worked perfectly, until one afternoon someone knocked on my door.

The lady's name was Socorro. I had promised her a necklace.

I had never been punished, but I had seen other children punished after doing something "bad" and I knew that possibility existed. I also knew that I had probably done several things wrong: I was taking materials that weren't mine, I was selling things without permission, and I was receiving money for it.

So when I heard that lady asking for me from the entrance, I felt something inside me shrink.

My mom opened the door.

"Who are you?"

I remember hearing the conversation from afar. I remember the lady's voice. I remember thinking that it was all over.

Then she explained that she was looking for the girl who had sold her a necklace.

I ran to my room, grabbed the necklace, and put it in an Etro glasses case that I thought was the most elegant thing in the world. I gave it to her, thanked her, and ran off again.

Much later I understood that that was the moment I expected my punishment. But it never came.

My mom spent a long time talking to Socorro. Then she came to find me. She explained, with a laugh, that I shouldn't take things that weren't mine, much less sell them.

And then she did something that changed my life.

She took me to Callejón del Diamante to buy my own materials: stones, beads, tools, and everything I needed to continue making jewelry.

More than twenty years later, I'm still doing it.

I'm still fascinated by stones. I'm still fascinated by stories. And I still find it incredible that someone wants to take home something I made with my own hands.

María.