agriculture dreams English nostalgia Spain


I have a dream, and my dream doesn’t include skyscrapers and one hour commutes to work. My dream happens in a house in the mountains, back in Spain, which happens to be my parents house. In it, my husband and I decide to turn our lives around and go back home to take over my parents land, to become agricultors and follow the steps of my father, who had to retire six years ago. In my dream my kids run free on the backyard, and build castles with straw. They pick apples from our apple trees, and help me grow tomatoes. They go to the mountains to pick up mushrooms in the Fall, a Christmas tree in December, flowers in the spring, berries in the summer. They are happy and healthy and always surrounded by family.
For now, it’s just a dream. But I know it’s possible: that’s how i grew up. And the older I get the more I miss it. For now, I will keep trying to convince my husband (an actuary who doesn’t really like the countryside and maintains that he cannot live without a decent amount of pollution) that it’s a good idea.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Chicago, and I love the USA. But I miss my family a lot, and my parents cannot travel here for medical reasons, which makes my stay here more difficult every year. I will keep reporting on how my campaign goes. Wish me luck. Because sometimes, dreams come true.

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