I grew up in a small town in the Panhandle of Texas.
I am not sentimental about the little dirt smear that is the town I was raised in, and I fantasize about a day where nothing is left that ties me to it.
That day will probably never come, but its nice to think about.
However, I do have very tender, dear feelings for the Flatlands of the Great Plains in Texas.
Driving for hours, being able to see everything in every direction for miles, watching storms roll in all afternoon before it actually gets to you.
When I got to Madrid, I had a weird need for open land the first month I was there.
I didn’t understand why I missed pasture land so much, as I sure didn’t miss small town life.
I felt more at home within 72 hours of being in Madrid than I ever had anywhere else in my entire life– that in itself was a little terrifying, knowing my time had an expiration date– and me missing open views felt misplaced. The buildings everywhere and the limited green space I’d encountered early on were not an issue by me, but something in my subconscious took issue.
A realization swept over me after about a week and a half: I had never gone longer than 3 days in my entire life without seeing a meadow, all uninterrupted view for at least a few miles.
Even in my time spent in Houston, its only a 30 minute drive in light traffic before you can get to pastures from city center
if you’re driving west, and I lived in a Western suburb.

And then on the 10th day I was in Spain, I was taken on a little trip to nearby Toledo (a highly recommended trip) and there they were.
Open fields.
This is a terrible picture, but it was a great feeling.
Just seeing for so far felt so free and gooooood.

I didn’t miss open fields again, but the next time I saw them in April on the way to Grenada, I loved them just the same.
I guess this is to say, you may end up homesick for random, odd, surprising things, but that’s okay. You don’t have to understand it.
Just find your uninterrupted view, whatever it may be, and let it comfort you.