A long story short

I grew up on a fifteen acre farm in suburbia and spent my childhood in a strange world of shopping malls and scrunch socks coexisting with strawberry fields and pig pens. A social farm, not congested, but busy. A curiosity.

I left at Seventeen. I didn't think I'd be back, but 12 years later, with a 3 year old in tow, I drove my Uhaul from Albuquerque back to the congestion of Long Island. To be completely honest, I was broken when I returned. Newly separated, single mom, seeking the support of her family and in many ways a place where I could crawl into a hole for a while and know my boy was ok.  When I emerged from the cocoon, I found I had stumbled back to a place that suited me perfectly in many ways.

Of course, there has to be complications!  Time passed, I remarried and had another baby.  Supported my husband through dental school and residency, and then... wouldn't you know it, he wanted to move.  I remind you, this is an abridged version of the story, but suffice it to say, my husband and I spent a long time debating and eventually, we decided to move.

What happens to you when your identity is so wrapped up in your way of life and then your way of life changes? What happens to a farmer when they move away from the farm? Can a farmer telecommute?