Being a kid in the country meant being free to do what I wanted pretty much all of the time. Unless I was at school or had chores to tend to. I grew up in a small rural town in California. Most people think of California as one long coastline where everyone has a year-round tan. But California is far more than that. It has farmland; my Dad had a dairy farm and grew rice.
Surrounding my childhood home, there are fields. Growing up, we were told that having land mattered. If you had land, you could live. With a patch of dirt, seeds, and water, you would never starve. Knowing my Dad had land, he knew how to farm, and my Mom knew how to cook. Hard work, food, and love went hand in hand. We had plenty of the three.
As a child growing up on a farm, I took the freedom the land had to offer for granted—the vast space to run around and play. I took for granted the daily lessons of nature. I often didn't realize the soothing sound of silence during the day. These natural parts of my day seemed unimportant until I went to the urban side of the world. Though the moment I went to live in the city where my feet touched cement instead of the earth, where the sun and moon weren't visible at a glance but often peering between buildings, reducing seasons to simple words; too hot or too cold. I realized how lucky I was to have experienced dirt underneath my feet. The country has become my "Emerald City." The lessons I gathered rose strong within me.
My French Husband grew up in Rennes, a city in Northern France. His work is in investing in urban developments, the land of concrete buildings. Far away are his city experiences from my growing up on a farm.
When we were first married, we lived in Paris. As beautiful as it was when my feet touched the dry, earthy ground of Provence, I knew then I could call France home. Of course, it helps to have my French Husband by my side, even if he isn't a farmer…
Thirty years in France. I have lived longer in France than in California; that reality is a landscape full of mountain tops, valleys, rivers, dry land, architecture, monuments, and a blue sea.
Isn't it funny how at times, we can look back and see a connection, a vague cosmic order? As if a string ties this to that and makes us say, "Isn't that funny?" How life unfolds.
Where are you today?
Leave a Reply