Wandering Roots - September 2024
Loss and gain, beauty and pain, and offering myself an olive branch.
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.
We Moved into The Italian House! (And Started a New School Year)
On Sunday, 8th September, we finally moved into our house (yay!). The house wasn’t in a comfortably livable state but we have a bed big enough for four, and a prayer mat, so the first night was fine.
My lucky two-year-old had the privilege of a both a table AND a chair and it only took three days before we had hot water and a fridge.
On Monday 9th September my daughter had her first day back at school (arghhh!)
I was not quite in mother-of-the-year state, but she was dressed (we all were) and we were on time(ish). It only took me a week to gather her water bottle, change of clothes and hand towel…
The Olive Tree
For the first couple of weeks the house was still full of workers. Wardrobes couldn’t be built until the painting was finished and summer had turned to autumn overnight.
Inappropriate summer clothing exploded from our suitcases and I took frequent trips to the garage to rummage around for a cardigan, a pair of closed shoes that still fit, the aforementioned water bottle, change of clothes, hand towel.
Whenever it got too much and I started to feel overwhelmed I would step outside and look towards the olive tree. True to their reputation, those branches brought me peace.
On one particularly bad day, a stone floor was being sanded. The noise and dust made it impossible to stay inside. I took the kids out and we set up camp under the shade of those branches for the afternoon.
I’ve Been Hiding Something…
There is one big life update that I didn’t share with you last month. I had planned to share it this month instead, as I reached the 12-week mark… I was pregnant.
I’m not anymore.
On 23rd September I began to miscarry. The phrase blood, sweat and tears took on new meaning for me. I felt like I lost gallons of all three.
The thoughts that came to me were many. The words were few.
“I feel like I just want to cry and cry and never stop” I told my husband, Muhammad.
“So cry” he said, and I did.
Blood, sweat, tears.
After about 14 hours I didn’t need to cry anymore. I felt peace.
When the women around me asked if they could help, I said yes. It is a yes that has taken eight years of practise.
They brought me lunch and dinner and lunch the next day too. The sent me messages to check how I was doing. If I answered the door, they popped in with cakes, herbs, flowers. If I didn’t, they left them on the doorstep.
They shared their stories with me and listened to mine. They met my gaze with courage and held me tight. They cried too.
I asked for what I needed. A question that has taken eight years of practice.
It was a bathtub. What I needed was a bathtub. I don’t have one at my place. They opened their bathroom doors and shared theirs. They lit candles for me.
It was a rough week, full of beautiful moments.
I share this for the same reason I share all of my personal stories. To remind myself, I’m not alone and to remind you that your are not either. We all know loss. We all know pain.
Saturday 28th September
On Saturday I left the kids in their pyjamas all morning. They followed their dad outside in their socks. I didn’t call them back. I didn’t go chasing them with shoes. I went and had a shower in peace. I got dressed slowly. I looked out of the window.
There were rolling hills. There was the olive tree. There was Muhammad, getting the lowdown from our neighbour Giuseppe who’s lived here for 50 years.
I heard my children bounding up the stairs, full of excitement. Each with their own discovery. First, my daughter.
“Mummy, come see! If you come outside you can see the roof of the horse’s house. Come and see it, you can see it from the garden.”
There’s a horse on the way to school. It stands in a field beside the metal factory. She thinks its his house. She thinks the horse lives in a sprawling industrial mansion. Then, my son.
“Mummy, I got olives! It’s green ones and purple ones but it doesn’t taste nice. It’s not ready. You can’t eat it.”
I Have a Question for You…
Is there anything you need? Is there some way I could help? What would it take for you to say yes…?
Keep wandering, my friends, in body, heart or mind.
Rahma x
So sorry to hear of your loss. Good thoughts and prayers your way. Strongs with the continuing repairs on the house and winter in a strange land. It all sounds exciting but i am sure the challenges are just as equal as the excitement.
Rahma, as someone said above your words are devastatingly beautiful. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your photos are beautiful. And it takes a lot of courage to write this kind of piece thank you for your bravery and may God reward you with something better and greater than what you have lost