My daughter is nine, and she was born in a big city. She had never seen my hometown before. A few days ago, I brought her and my wife back to the village where I grew up—a small place surrounded by mountains, reached by about an hour of difficult mountain roads.
When we arrived, everything felt strange to her: different people, a different environment, different mountains, a different road. But she liked the mountains and the grass. She liked seeing all the cows, horses, and sheep.
I asked if she wanted to come back and live there for a long time, and if we could build a house there together. She said no. Maybe she only likes traveling and not staying. I feel like that is better. It is good. I am not sure I can fully explain why, but that is how it feels.
My daughter is nine, and she was born in a big city. She had never seen my hometown before. A few days ago, I brought her and my wife back to the village where I grew up—a small place surrounded by mountains, reached by about an hour of difficult mountain roads.
When we arrived, everything felt strange to her: different people, a different environment, different mountains, a different road. But she liked the mountains and the grass. She liked seeing all the cows, horses, and sheep.
I asked if she wanted to come back and live there for a long time, and if we could build a house there together. She said no. Maybe she only likes traveling and not staying. I feel like that is better. It is good. I am not sure I can fully explain why, but that is how it feels.
