-
The S26 Ultra and the Fear of the Escape
I am currently typing this on a phone that is warming my palm, dreaming of a luxury I’m not sure I’ve earned. I have a confession: I want the Samsung S26 Ultra. I want the crisp camera to capture the small details of my life. I want the tech that feels like a reward for the years I’ve spent on a device that is slowly showing its age. But as much as I want it, I am also afraid of it. The Contentment Conflict The truth is, my phone right now is fine. It works perfectly okay for the daily basics. I am grateful for it, and I don’t want…
-
One Full Trolley
This week, I filled one full trolley. The big one. At Lulu. But it didn’t start at the supermarket. It started at home, peering into the fridge and the pantry. One lonely cucumber, half-empty milk, and the kind of leftover rice that no one really wants anymore. That was when the “thinking” began. The Mental Map Before I even reached for the car keys, I was already carrying a load. It’s the list no one else sees: By the time I was walking through the aisles, I wasn’t just shopping. I was navigating a map of my family’s needs and moods. Item by item, it didn’t feel like much. Milk.…
-
The Lunch That Lasted Until 10:00
Yesterday, something shifted. It started as a simple suggestion—a meeting for inspiring ladies near my house in Sharjah. SubhanAllah, it blew up. Suddenly, thirty women were gathered at Sadaf Restaurant, sharing a meal and a space that we all desperately needed. We ate (the food was incredible—I finally learned that Barberries are their own tiny, tart magic on rice!), but more importantly, we exhaled. Finding the “Me” in the Middle of “Them” As expat women in a faraway land, it is so easy to lose yourself. We talked about the struggle of being “just” a mom, “just” a wife, “just” a daughter. For a long time, I’ve struggled with the…
-
Tangled Hair and Me
As an Indonesian, my hair has always been simple. It is straight, fine, and easy to manage. I rarely keep it very long; once it grows past a certain point, it starts falling like rain in the monsoon back home. So I had to cut it shorter. It is always like that. It is predictable. It is quiet. My daughters, Allahumma barik, are the complete opposite. Their hair is a wild, beautiful crown—curly, dry, coarse, and long. In the Arab world, this is the “ideal.” People love to see it flowing. But the reality of living with that beauty is a weight I don’t always have the energy to carry.…
