For those who wear the Third Culture Kid label and the Global Nomad tag proudly, the word ‘rooted’ is scary. For all we speak, ponder, and write of identity theft and crisis, for all we wistfully try to articulate ‘belonging’ – being ‘rooted’ can be terrifying.
There are some myths that I have believed about roots, more so “being rooted”: Rooted means I’m from here. Rooted means I can’t leave. Rooted means I’m stuck.
But perhaps being rooted gives strength. Perhaps being rooted doesn’t mean I give up who I am, rather that I securely use my past as a bridge to my present. Rooted means I grow strong, like the sunflowers that are growing high in our garden, faces raised to the sun.
I was thinking of this during the past weekend. We often spend summer weekends in Rockport, Massachusetts. Rockport of the Motif #1 (most painted spot in the United States we’ve heard). Rockport of the rocky coast and stunning gardens. Rockport of the artists and the creators, old inns by the sea, and marvelous sunsets.
Rockport is one of my favorite places on Ever. Earth.
For a woman who feels at home in the Middle East and Southeast Asia, who grew up fully comfortable with the call to prayer, who wears travel like she wears her favorite shoes and excitedly looks forward to trips to the airport where she is traveling, this is a big deal.
The truth is that just as places in Pakistan have been a part of my life since I was a baby, there are places in New England that have also been a part of my life. That’s the mystery of living in two worlds.
And Rockport is one of those places. I can’t remember when I first visited, all I know is that it has long been a place of peace, rest, and beauty.
A place where time stops and all life feels rooted.
My love of Rockport reached a new level a few years ago when we took a risk and bought a condominium a block from the rocky seacoast. We convinced ourselves that we could rent it out during the school year and use it during the summer months. This way it would not be a financial burden during a time when we needed to focus on other priorities. Every year at least once I think “Perhaps we need to sell our condo in Rockport”. The thought is quickly swatted out of my head like you might swat a fly or an annoying mosquito.
Sell Rockport? No! For in our life of many moves this feels steady and solid. After 29 years of marriage and 17 houses the entire family desperately needs a Rockport. We need to know there is a place that isn’t going away soon.
We know too well that nothing is permanent, what we need to be able to say is that some things are steady, some things can be solid.
Memories of games played until late at night, ocean walks, and fans whirring in the summer heat are precious reminders that we have created a space, that we have developed some roots. They may not go very deep, but they are still firm. They may be pulled up rudely, but not without a fight.
During summers we are rooted in Rockport and it is a gift.
