There must be a few villages like yours. I live in one and often find myself in the company of fellow post-menopausal transplants, all of us loving our lives, except that we wish our partners had taken better care of themselves and were still with us. The been-here-since-forever types are often less well educated than the transplants, surely another reason why we don't mix well. At least there is no open hostility. And often their kids move to the cities, so the increase in housing values is seen as a bonus.
I love this post in so many ways, it’s such a vivid description of the interior lives of you transplants. And miraculously slowed my breathing while I was reading it.
As comfortable an account of the coming together of accidental neighbors who met as friends as one could hope for. It is sad about the separateness of the old guard, but as an old woman myself, I see how that comes about.
There must be a few villages like yours. I live in one and often find myself in the company of fellow post-menopausal transplants, all of us loving our lives, except that we wish our partners had taken better care of themselves and were still with us. The been-here-since-forever types are often less well educated than the transplants, surely another reason why we don't mix well. At least there is no open hostility. And often their kids move to the cities, so the increase in housing values is seen as a bonus.
I love this post in so many ways, it’s such a vivid description of the interior lives of you transplants. And miraculously slowed my breathing while I was reading it.
one could not ask for more!
As comfortable an account of the coming together of accidental neighbors who met as friends as one could hope for. It is sad about the separateness of the old guard, but as an old woman myself, I see how that comes about.