„Weekend Struggles: No Rest at the Family Farm”

Every Friday, as the clock ticks towards the end of the workweek, I dream of a peaceful weekend. A time to unwind, maybe catch up on some reading or simply enjoy the quiet. But my weekends are far from restful. Instead, they are spent at my relatives’ farm in the Polish countryside, where relaxation is a distant dream.

„Wojtek, przyjedź do nas na weekend,” Wujek Marek would say over the phone. „Będzie miło, odpoczniesz trochę.”

I always fall for it. The promise of fresh air and a break from city life is too tempting. But as soon as I arrive at their farm, the reality sets in. The list of chores seems endless.

„Możesz pomóc z krowami?” Ciocia Ania asks as soon as I step out of the car. Her voice is sweet, but I know better now. Helping with the cows is just the beginning.

The farm is beautiful, no doubt about it. Rolling fields stretch as far as the eye can see, and the air is crisp and clean. But there’s always something that needs doing. Fences to mend, hay to stack, animals to feed. The work is relentless.

„Nie martw się, Wojtek,” Wujek Marek assures me with a grin. „To tylko kilka drobnych rzeczy.”

But those „drobne rzeczy” add up quickly. By Saturday afternoon, I’m knee-deep in mud, trying to fix a broken fence while Wujek Marek supervises with a cup of tea in hand.

„Robisz to źle,” he chuckles, pointing out my mistakes. „Musisz się jeszcze dużo nauczyć.”

I sigh and keep working, knowing that arguing is pointless. The sun sets slowly over the fields, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It’s beautiful, but I barely notice. My muscles ache, and all I can think about is sleep.

Sunday morning comes too soon. I’m woken up by the sound of roosters crowing and Ciocia Ania bustling around the kitchen.

„Śniadanie gotowe!” she calls out cheerfully.

I drag myself out of bed and join them at the table. The food is delicious—fresh eggs, homemade bread, and cheese—but I can hardly enjoy it knowing what’s coming next.

„Po śniadaniu pomożesz mi z warzywami?” Ciocia Ania asks.

I nod, trying to muster a smile. The vegetable garden is vast, and we spend hours weeding and harvesting. My back aches from bending over, and my hands are stained with dirt.

As the day wears on, I find myself longing for my small apartment in the city. The thought of returning to work on Monday feels like a relief compared to this never-ending cycle of chores.

By the time I leave on Sunday evening, I’m exhausted. Wujek Marek and Ciocia Ania wave goodbye cheerfully, promising that next weekend will be different.

„Może w końcu odpoczniesz,” Ciocia Ania says with a wink.

But I know better now. As much as I love them and their farm, I realize that weekends here will never be restful. The promise of leisure is just an illusion—a carrot dangled in front of me to keep me coming back.

As I drive back to the city, I can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Love for my family, frustration at the endless work, and a deep yearning for a weekend where I can truly relax.