Family: A Nation of Unique Personalities

My family is like a country. Each member is a province, with their own celebrations, customs, unique ways of complaining, and special ways of showing love.

My family is a whole country, with its different regions, its highs and lows, its beautiful sights, and even some less appealing areas you might prefer to avoid.

My father is like an inland village, one of those with a few old houses with weathered roofs and a church that matches the dry grass around it. He's reserved and hardworking, grounded and connected to the earth, always watching the sky for rain. Practical, intelligent, superstitious, and so calm he seems to blend into the scenery. The lines he's drawn in the soil and on paper have become etched onto his face, always looking towards the future.

My mother is a vibrant seaside neighborhood, one of those places where people often walk barefoot, perhaps carrying a damp towel. There, life moves to the rhythm of breaking waves, smiling locals, celebrations, and a joyful approach to life. She's like a place where no one likes to be told what to do, where hugs are warm and welcoming, and where no one goes hungry, as there's always someone willing to give without expecting anything back.

My brother is a cosmopolitan city, with many airports and countless languages, yet everyone seems to understand each other. Every building is painted a different color, and every person is just as unique. New ideas constantly emerge from the asphalt, and solutions are found without causing any fuss.

My sister is many places, and sometimes, she's even the highway that connects them. Sometimes there's a 'toll' to pay, but it's always worth it for the many experiences she offers. You might encounter icy blizzards that blanket the horizon in an impenetrable white, and other times you might swelter in her deserts. My sister embodies untamed landscapes that remind us we're walking on something far older than our concept of a country.

My niece is a new settlement, fresh and full of possibilities, which has shaken things up in the family and made us question all our old beliefs.

In this country that is my family, there were always battles, just like in all nations. Though there were revolutions, no one was ever truly 'overthrown,' because we always knew, even if we didn't always realize it, that its people were more important than any family name or symbol. We understood that to keep enjoying our shared 'landscape,' we had to accept that every country, every family, is complex, mysterious, and diverse. And that's what makes us an interesting place for other 'countries,' other families, and other people to visit and discover.

In my family, the sun never sets. In my country, I hope the looming darkness never arrives.

I could have lived in a small, dry village in southern Extremadura, surrounded by tobacco, wheat fields, and grazing animals, where time seemed to stand still. I might have eagerly awaited spring, followed the stork migration, prepared for winter, and gazed at the endless horizon through a window. Or I could have grown up surrounded by human history in the streets of Athens, eating fresh watermelon in dazzling summers, feeling centuries of history, and fighting for a place in the future.

I could have been a proud Londoner, loving the rain and grey skies, with a perfect accent and a dry wit understood by a select few.

I could have been a passionate Italian, dreaming big and talking about better times.

I could have experienced the thawing of the Alps, the eruption of Etna, the earthquakes of Taiwan, the tsunamis of Japan, or been a child prodigy in a vast China. Or a teenager lost in the frozen Russian steppe. Or a wise old man with two teeth, chewing coca on a high Andean mountain. Or a truck driver from Burgos, dreaming of a two-week holiday in August. Or a wealthy child dreaming of being useful, even if just for two weeks.

I could feel the plains as my own, remember cherished crystal-clear lakes, breathe in the dry air coming through the window, and gaze at the infinite horizon of land... But I was born in the Canary Islands, and my story is different; this is my story (every landscape is beautiful, but this one is mine).

In these times of giving, let us remember these unspoken gifts that we often take for granted. Even if they don't feel new anymore, they just need a little care, a fresh coat of paint, or a handful of affection. Happy everything, dear readers.