Wandering Roots - December 2024 and January 2025
Choices that change the trajectory of a life, overlooked moments of joy and the wisdom of those who have lived for 80+ years
Welcome to Wandering Roots, a monthly newsletter from me, A Woman Who Wanders.
After buying a house at the beginning of June, I had a slight wobble regarding my identity (online and otherwise.)
Am I still a woman who wanders? I asked, and it turns out that I am, but I am also, now, a woman who roots. This newsletter will offer updates on my progress, as I marry my wandering and rooting together.
You can expect to read about:
The ongoing journey of adjusting to life in rural Italy (learning the language, adapting to the culture)
The renovation of my Italian house
Mothering abroad (and in general)
Learning how to grow plants (lots of them edible, I hope)
How I’m figuring out a makeshift career while I don’t have a strong proficiency in the language that surrounds me
Plus recommendations for things I’m enjoying, in Italy, and online.
SURPRISE NEWS FLASH! Life Gets Better Without Screens.
I mentioned in the last newsletter that I experienced November as a deep dark hole. We all need to sit in a deep dark hole from time to time, I’m not knocking it, but I didn’t want to stay there forever.
My main tool to climb out of it was screen-elimination. I took a pause on any screen-time for the kids and left my phone in another room myself.
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly everything gets better when I leave my phone in another room. The longer I do it, the better it gets.
I gave the laptop a miss too, hence you have December and January smushed together here. I even considered abandoning this publication altogether… but I’m still here.
Returning to the Homeland That Doesn’t Feel Like Home
For the last 10 days of December I went to the UK to visit my parents.
Despite singing the praises of screen-free time above, I took the opportunity to go to the cinema for the first time in over 5 years! By myself. It was so uninterrupted.
And also a little underwhelming. The entire trip was a bit like that.
I enjoyed speaking in my own language. My children were amazed to discover that everybody around them spoke English and I loved that everything, including the cinema, was available to me without the language barrier.
It was a delight to see the kids with their grandparents, their cousins, my cousins and their great-grandmother.
I was also hyper-aware of how much I was being marketed to. All the time. I’m not used to it anymore. I felt my mood being altered as I walked into shops. Music hijacked my emotions in a way that worked from the outside in, instead of the reverse.
There was an ever-present invitation to buy. The promise that all my problems would be solved if I would only take the time to buy the right clothes… I desperately wanted to believe that it was true. I don’t.
Returning to the Home That Kind of Feels Like Home
Returning to Italy I felt aware of how much I have cut myself off from, and yet also, why.
I felt simultaneously like I had escaped from something (a front-row seat on capitalist empire’s collapse?) and that I was trapped.
Life requires choices. Even not choosing is a choice.
The truth, that choices have consequences, has been very present for me. Choosing one thing necessarily cuts us off from another. We cannot have everything at the same time.
How do we spend our time?
What skills do we learn?
Which relationships do we hold on to?
Which do we discard?
Do we marry?
Who?
Do we go?
Do we stay?
It all changes the trajectory of one’s life.
Out of the fire and into the frying pan. That’s how January felt for me. I guess it’s a step in the right direction? Then LA started to burn.
I went for a walk with my two-year-old. We stopped by a stream. We stood and watched and listened.
“Shall we go now?” I asked, after a minute or two.
“No, I want to stay longer and listen to the water”
My shoulders softened and sunk from their favourite spot beside my ears. I realised I too wanted to stay longer and listen to the water.
I choose to stay longer and listen to the water. A choice can change the trajectory of one’s life.
Finding Beauty and Purpose in Overlooked Corners of Life
And so, I’ve been slowing down. I’ve been cooking food. I’ve been looking at my family in the eye. I’ve been checking in on neighbours and friends.
I wrote about my miraculous family closet and
, somebody I’ve never met, left this comment that moved me to tears.
I hadn’t given words to it, but indeed, this is my current practice; finding beauty and purpose in the overlooked corners of life.
Moments of Joy
On that note. Here are some micro-moments of joy that I experienced in the last couple of months:
This question from my 4-year-old daughter, while her brain connects the dots that plants and buildings grow differently:
“Did this house grow? Or did builders build it?”
This conversation with my two-year-old as I was changing him into his pyjamas:
“Mama, can we read books in bed?
“Yes.”
“Will you take my clothes off gently?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a good mum!”
“Thanks my love, you’re a good son.”
“And you’re a good princess.”
Singing “You Can Call me Al” into my broom handle while I sweep the kitchen floor.
Yes, I probably looked ridiculous.
Singing Tracy Chapman’s Talkin’ Bout a Revolution and whispering “like a whisper” into my kids’ ears.
Yes, I probably looked even more ridiculous but they love it.
Eating a delicious red kidney bean curry
I made this red kidney bean recipe and the kids didn’t eat it. My husband didn’t come home either so I ate as much as I wanted and had loads of leftovers. That was a win for current me and a win for future me.
P.S. I’ve made so many recipes from this blog, Tea for Turmeric, and every dish comes out tasting amazing - as if my Pakistani grandmother made it.
Some Words from 80+ Year Olds That Made Me Think
Speaking of my Pakistani grandmother, when I was in the UK she told us about her best years. My brother imagined that the years after 80 were probably the best and she replied “No. The best years were the years when my husband was alive.”
She went on to specify that she missed the fights and I was pierced by the idea of fighting as a very particular form of intimacy. Not all relationships are safe enough or strong enough to withstand it.
Then, a few weeks ago, I saw my neighbour as I was leaving the house with the kids. He’s also 80-something and, unprompted, he told me the best years of his life were when his children were around 5 years old. He’s never felt so useful and full of purpose as he did then. He reflected that, although his wife was very busy and burdened, he has never seen in her the same joy that he used to witness in those years, when she was constantly in the service of young children.
Perhaps I am living the best years of my life, right now. Imagine that.
Is there somewhere you might be overlooking beauty and purpose in your life?
I’ll leave you with that question while I go feed my children and maybe even pick a fight with my husband.
Keep wandering, my friends, in body, heart or mind.
Rahma x
Rahma, I love the way you write.
Rahma, I always love reading your essays. It feels like we're sitting together, perhaps in your kitchen, perhaps in your multipurpose closet while we fold laundry, and just chatting. This essay was no exception. So many great little drops of wisdom.