Traveling with my mother -in -law made us closer to ever
Cathy, the woman who will later become my mother -in -law, met a small island in the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles away from the place where she or her son grew up.
I and my future husband, Ore, were living on Kaway at that time, and had a great idea to extract her that we had to have mothers at the same time so that everyone could get to know each other. In the week that everyone had arrived, I was a mixture of anxiety. I was familiar with the powerful Uriya with his family and eager to leave a good impression.
It turned out that all my nights without sleep were nothing. Cathai welcomed me in the family with the warmest incubator, both metabolically or literally. I clicked immediately, and I could not believe how comfortable I felt around her.
It made a trip to Morocco our strong relationship
It was in September 2023 when we met for the first time, and we saw each other again the following month for a few days in Colorado, the mother country in Uria. Then, when we got married in Sicily in May next year, we all spent a week in Sicily together.
Despite spending a total of less than three weeks together, we have already created a close relationship. But we did not even traveled together to Morocco last February that our bond was really reinforced.
I and I bought a house in Italy, and Cathai traveled with us to Sardinia to close it. None of us had a house before, and I had an idea and a flying idea to Morocco to shop for the embroidered family and other unique dialects to make it our own.
I had memories of a 10 -year trip from all the wonderful and colorful textiles and the rainbow mosaic lamps casting a tight light on the chaotic city. Cathy sent a cheap trip and found from Milan to Marrakesh and asked if she was ready for that. I agreed without hesitation.
When we first got out of the taxi in downtown Marrakesh, the adolescent daughter of Airbnb hosts us to guide us to our apartment. When she rushed to follow her through the maze’s debtor, I realized that Cathy and Yuria had swallowed up in the crowd, and she was referred to to our host that we must allow them to kneel.
The author, her husband and father enjoyed her presence in Morocco together.
With the permission of Julia Reynolds
I felt a touch of fear when I saw their nervous faces between mobilizing people, and briefly wondered whether I had made a mistake to take them to a place that could make such a sensual excess pregnancy. I was comfortable when we were all safely in our apartment in Marrakech.
Over the next few days, Cathy and I deal with fabrics in stalling after stalling with endless nails of silk Jakar, cotton, wool, and barbaric tightly woven in every imaginative color. Urea will lose its attention and leave our own devices, while we looked at dozens of textures and patterns before choosing our preferences and arranging their pieces and coordinating them.
We open each other and share beautiful memories
Next week, at Essaouira, we spent more time on one on one, as it proved the twentieth position that we stopped looking at the pillows as the last straw of patience at the Uyuriya house.
After returning to pillows in a café overlooking the ocean, we did not talk about the mother and his daughter with all the encouraging, implicit complications that these relationships are often kept, but with two women who share stories about love, loss and heartache. Ore sometimes finds us, sweeps us in these discussions, and got up, “Are you crying again?”
Somewhere in the magic of Morocco, between the crowded Medina in Marrakech and the Charmasi sunset over a beach in Essaoira, and Cathy participated in the experiences that were alone. We mobilized them like souvenirs when we fly our separate ways, but the memories we woven together were in more complex and colorful patterns than the textiles we have chosen. Like the postcards that Cathy always buy but do not send because they are so beautiful, we will always keep it with us.