Returning to my roots

Returning to My Roots

For the first time since moving here, I had a wave of What am I doing in Paris? I’m not Parisienne!

I’m not sure what brought it on — probably the usual mix of little frustrations. The complexity of life here. Not knowing how to get everyday things done. Realizing I’d mishandled my French tax declaration (all fixed now). Or maybe just waking up to how exhausting it can be to listen hard enough, every day, to truly understand the conversations around me.

That train of thought led, inevitably, to the next question:
If not Paris, then where?

Canada, of course, would make sense — closer to family and old friends.
The US too, where I lived for several years and still have people I love.
Other European countries? Other continents? I wasn’t feeling inspired by any of them.

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While mulling this over, I went to my salon — my quiet place to think.
I asked my stylist what I should do with my hair.

He smiled and said, “Retournez à vos racines.”
Return to your roots.

So I did.

Not to Canada, but to my natural hair colour — something I hadn’t seen in at least twenty years. I couldn’t even remember what shade it was.

And here it is — my natural colour, back after twenty years.
Paris can keep her secrets; I’ve found mine again