DEAR LAND

 DEAR LAND

I come from afar to see my dear parents

Because the longing couldn't stand it anymore

I'm Brazilian descendant of tupi

I came to see my land where I was born

Is that the longing squeezed my heart

I miss my parents and my brothers

I miss Juriti's singing

It was the reason I came back here

Dear Earth I always adored you

I want to be with you

And by your side forever I will live

This beautiful song, by Francisco Lacerda and Nenete, is timeless. Why? Simple... since the dawn of man's history on earth, migrations are a constant in his life. For various reasons, the man always leaves his initial group and goes to look for opportunities in other corners. Sometimes it is successful, sometimes not. But one thing never changes in his perception... the attachment to his origins, the love of his homeland... whatever his destiny in new lands, he never forgets that little place that saw him born, grow up... .to blossom into life. No matter how successful you become, that place where you were born will always be, in your soul, a little piece of Heaven on earth. Because that's where all his references are... father, mother, brothers, relatives, friends and acquaintances. The smell of the grass in his homeland is far more fragrant than any other grass in the world. Life in the village he lived in before he left was much quieter, much more peaceful. The food, made by her mother's hands, was much tastier. The sun was more radiant, the nights more starry, with a silver moon illuminating the sky. As they say, the grass was much greener...

But then, if his land of origin was so good, why did he leave, leaving behind a unique corner of the earth, abandoning a place blessed by God and throwing himself headlong into adventures in strange lands in search of success in his life, if everything you needed was within reach of your hands? After all, no matter how welcoming the new destination in which he will fight to win in life is, he will never reach the foot of that lost point in the world, where honey fountains gushed their nectar for the delight of its residents...

It's not uncommon to hear from people who, for whatever reason, want to go back to their place of origin... the land they are in has not been able to establish their roots. Even though they are miles from the land they were born in, their desire to return never wanes. This is not to say that everyone ends up returning. Of course not. After all, life is dynamic and takes a toll on each one of us, no matter what the intimate desires of our soul are. But dreaming is still allowed, and people feel themselves running through the fields they knew when they were little, every time they close their eyes...

The funny thing is that true communities of migrants are formed in new places, and these try to recreate the atmosphere of their homeland, completely mischaracterizing the identity of the place where they are inserted. That is, after some time, the natives of that place chosen by people from other corners will no longer be able to recognize their own land. Because she became, little by little, a hybrid. It is no longer the land of its natives, because little by little the uses and customs are changing. And it is not the land of travelers either, as it will never be able to match the perfection of the places they came from...

It's half past eight on this wonderful Sunday that begins. Sunday, pasta and mayonnaise salad day... family visit day, remembering the past and imagining the future...

Stay with God, and may He pour His Blessing upon our heads. May this be the best Sunday of our lives and may He allow us to reach the end of this beautiful day alongside our loved ones, and may we be able to accomplish a little of what He expects of us... Kisses, and see you tomorrow...