can't sleep/where are all the 25- to 40-year-olds?

I'm awake even earlier than usual today. Those who know Big Jim personally are well aware of his love of talk. There are few people who can keep up with his conversations for any time. When our friend J. first saw that Big Jim and I share an office, he was amazed that we could do so. I told J. that we had to iron out some ground rules at the beginning and that I used to stick a post-it on my laptop that said "Do not disturb" when I really, really couldn't be interrupted. Now I usually wear headphones, sometimes with nothing playing, simply to deter chatting when I am in the middle of a large project. I often joke that there are not enough hours in the day for Big Jim to say everything he needs to; therefore, he talks in his sleep. Tonight has been one of those nights. He may have been having a nightmare, I'm not sure. But it lasted at least an hour, and he was extremely restless, sitting up in a start, rolling, tossing, etc. And did I mention he was speaking in German? So I thought it best to wake him, which is always a risky proposition. He was mildly annoyed but glad I had; he has no recollection of what the dream was about. He is now dozing peacefully, but I'm wide awake.  When I first met Big Jim, he talked in his sleep almost nightly. He was working very hard, involved in large projects, and had difficulty shutting "off" at night. So he would babble about databases and his client in Brussels, sometimes switching from French to English and then to Dutch. Since we've been living in Spain, though, his sleep talking has decreased dramatically, which is good for me because my sleep is not disturbed. He now usually only talks in his sleep when he is bothered about something. I think that although Big Jim was very happy to see G. and T., their recent visits have been hard for him as well. He met both of them about eight years ago on a project he was overseeing. They were bright young programmers, and he has helped to mentor them in their careers. To his credit, they are successful, albeit a tad arrogant, contractors. Big Jim sees a lot of his former self in them, and I believe this makes him nostalgic for his own glory days. T. had some good suggestions for different approaches on Big Jim's CV; B.J. being the "wisened geezer" has difficulty taking advice from his young charges. But I'm working on him. Money is no longer the main issue fueling our desire for Big Jim to find a job; it's far more about him feeling useful and challenging his mind. We also feel as though we've been in a holding pattern for more than two years, and it's not always easy watching the world pass you by while you're just managing to tread water. On another topic, T. made an astute observation during his visit. As we returned Friday night from touring the feria grounds, he asked, "Where are all the 25-  to 40-year-olds in the village?" His question has a simple answer (There are none.) that speaks to a much larger problem affecting many of the mountain villages in the area (the migration of young people). I do exaggerate: there are some residents in the 25-40 age bracket, but not many. Like in many small towns in the US, teens from the village are leaving in droves to attend university or find work in the tourist areas on the coast or in the urban centers, where the wages are much higher and opportunities of all kinds abound. I understand their choices completely; similar wanderlust is what took me to Philadelphia 14 years ago. The exodus of young people from the villages has put many in an interesting predicament, one that is beginning to depend on immigration for their repopulation and sustenance. Some of the even more remote areas are in danger of literally dying out, with local populations over age 65 approaching 60, 70, 80%. During Semana Santa, the wine festival, and the Christmas season, the sons and daughters who have opted for a life elsewhere return home to visit their families. It's not difficult to spot them: the stylish haircuts and clothes, the clean and expensive cars, the air of achievement, the itchiness to return to the lives they've established outside of the village. This phenomenon is not new in many other parts of the world. It's what took me to Philadelphia, my sister to Maryland, and my brother to Massachusetts from the county in Pennsylvania where my mother's family has lived for more than 250 years. My friends from high school now live in Arizona, New York City, San Diego, Washington DC, San Francisco, Colorado. Big Jim and I often wonder what the village will be like in 10, 15 years. Will artists continue to flock here and a community similar to say Taos, New Mexico emerge? Will many of the young Spanish who've left become fed up with the stresses unique to urban life and return with a new-found appreciation of their village? Will the recently arrived expats stay? It's a tough call, and many scenarios are possible. I suppose the cliche "only time will tell" applies. hasta manana, mylifeinspain