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A storm was coming. Selima could feel it in her bones. Her joints ached, which meant that rain would soon be falling all over Jeruselum. There was no cloud in the sky yet, but experience meant that this would change. She hoped the visitors in Jeruselum would stay dry, and those who traveled would be safe. Selima found it fortunate that her own family did not have to travel far for the festivities. Her heart ached for the others.
Her home was lively on this night. Guests were over following the festival. Selima had made sure they were welcome. She made sure there were smiling faces all around. She had spent the entire day preparing food so that everyone could sit and eat together. Katriel had taken Livana out to the market most of the day, which normally would be no problem. Selima had her daughter, Davitah, to assist her. The poor girl had been running a fever all day. She barely could wake for her prayers and was silent throughout dinner. She had spent the day in bed, where Selima felt she ought to remain until her fever died down once again.
Selima’s fingers ached from all the preparations that she made today, but not once did the woman complain. When she cleaned her home, it was with a smile on her face. When she made the meal, it was with a tune to hum to. When she cared for her sick daughter, it was with the love only a mother could have.
But now her bones ached. This was not from overwork. This was from the storm that was brewing. So Selima lifted herself from the group with a smile and excused herself to go outside. She still had duties and those duties included making sure the laundry that was hanging in the courtyard was taken in. With the celebrations going on all throughout Jeruselum, her servants were with their families and slaves allowed a day of rest. It was up to Selima to make sure that the house was running smoothly.
Tired, but with a smile, the woman entered the courtyard with a basket under one arm. She placed it upon the table that was left near the lines and began to grab and fold the hanging linens. In the distance, she could see the clouds, ever-looming ready to wash away the dirt hidden within the corners and shadows of Jerusalem. Selima had better hurry so that she could return to the warmth of her home and the company of others.
It was then that Selima had spotted Maeri. Did she come out for some air? Or perhaps to check on Selima who had disappeared for the moment? “Maeri, dear, if it is not a bother could I ask for some assistance?” Selima called from the lines. “The speed of which those clouds are coming in leaves me worried.” She did feel bad asking her guest for some help, but with a sick daughter and Katriel nowhere in sight, Selima was left with little choice.
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A storm was coming. Selima could feel it in her bones. Her joints ached, which meant that rain would soon be falling all over Jeruselum. There was no cloud in the sky yet, but experience meant that this would change. She hoped the visitors in Jeruselum would stay dry, and those who traveled would be safe. Selima found it fortunate that her own family did not have to travel far for the festivities. Her heart ached for the others.
Her home was lively on this night. Guests were over following the festival. Selima had made sure they were welcome. She made sure there were smiling faces all around. She had spent the entire day preparing food so that everyone could sit and eat together. Katriel had taken Livana out to the market most of the day, which normally would be no problem. Selima had her daughter, Davitah, to assist her. The poor girl had been running a fever all day. She barely could wake for her prayers and was silent throughout dinner. She had spent the day in bed, where Selima felt she ought to remain until her fever died down once again.
Selima’s fingers ached from all the preparations that she made today, but not once did the woman complain. When she cleaned her home, it was with a smile on her face. When she made the meal, it was with a tune to hum to. When she cared for her sick daughter, it was with the love only a mother could have.
But now her bones ached. This was not from overwork. This was from the storm that was brewing. So Selima lifted herself from the group with a smile and excused herself to go outside. She still had duties and those duties included making sure the laundry that was hanging in the courtyard was taken in. With the celebrations going on all throughout Jeruselum, her servants were with their families and slaves allowed a day of rest. It was up to Selima to make sure that the house was running smoothly.
Tired, but with a smile, the woman entered the courtyard with a basket under one arm. She placed it upon the table that was left near the lines and began to grab and fold the hanging linens. In the distance, she could see the clouds, ever-looming ready to wash away the dirt hidden within the corners and shadows of Jerusalem. Selima had better hurry so that she could return to the warmth of her home and the company of others.
It was then that Selima had spotted Maeri. Did she come out for some air? Or perhaps to check on Selima who had disappeared for the moment? “Maeri, dear, if it is not a bother could I ask for some assistance?” Selima called from the lines. “The speed of which those clouds are coming in leaves me worried.” She did feel bad asking her guest for some help, but with a sick daughter and Katriel nowhere in sight, Selima was left with little choice.
A storm was coming. Selima could feel it in her bones. Her joints ached, which meant that rain would soon be falling all over Jeruselum. There was no cloud in the sky yet, but experience meant that this would change. She hoped the visitors in Jeruselum would stay dry, and those who traveled would be safe. Selima found it fortunate that her own family did not have to travel far for the festivities. Her heart ached for the others.
Her home was lively on this night. Guests were over following the festival. Selima had made sure they were welcome. She made sure there were smiling faces all around. She had spent the entire day preparing food so that everyone could sit and eat together. Katriel had taken Livana out to the market most of the day, which normally would be no problem. Selima had her daughter, Davitah, to assist her. The poor girl had been running a fever all day. She barely could wake for her prayers and was silent throughout dinner. She had spent the day in bed, where Selima felt she ought to remain until her fever died down once again.
Selima’s fingers ached from all the preparations that she made today, but not once did the woman complain. When she cleaned her home, it was with a smile on her face. When she made the meal, it was with a tune to hum to. When she cared for her sick daughter, it was with the love only a mother could have.
But now her bones ached. This was not from overwork. This was from the storm that was brewing. So Selima lifted herself from the group with a smile and excused herself to go outside. She still had duties and those duties included making sure the laundry that was hanging in the courtyard was taken in. With the celebrations going on all throughout Jeruselum, her servants were with their families and slaves allowed a day of rest. It was up to Selima to make sure that the house was running smoothly.
Tired, but with a smile, the woman entered the courtyard with a basket under one arm. She placed it upon the table that was left near the lines and began to grab and fold the hanging linens. In the distance, she could see the clouds, ever-looming ready to wash away the dirt hidden within the corners and shadows of Jerusalem. Selima had better hurry so that she could return to the warmth of her home and the company of others.
It was then that Selima had spotted Maeri. Did she come out for some air? Or perhaps to check on Selima who had disappeared for the moment? “Maeri, dear, if it is not a bother could I ask for some assistance?” Selima called from the lines. “The speed of which those clouds are coming in leaves me worried.” She did feel bad asking her guest for some help, but with a sick daughter and Katriel nowhere in sight, Selima was left with little choice.
Between Maeri’s engagement and her wedding were the New Year’s celebrations in Jerusalem. As much as Maeri often looked forward to such holidays throughout the year, this year, she was hoping that they could just fly by. They were standing between her and her starting her new life as a wife. Finally, she would have some control over her life.
When she was invited to the home of the head of the Meir Manheeg, Simeon, and his wife Selima, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to come. She almost would have rather been heading to Damascus to finish the planning for the wedding. That, however, wasn’t meant to be. She was not about to deny an invitation from Selima. She and her husband were some of the people she most looked up to. Their family was a perfect example of how to live a pious life.
Thus Maeri had found herself at Selima’s house, along with everyone who was anyone in Judea. Well, everyone but Talora. Somehow she had managed to weasel her way out of attending some sort of public function again. She’d seemed perfectly fine earlier in the day but had claimed that she was feeling too unwell to go out again. Maeri knew if she had tried such an excuse she would not have been allowed to get away with it. She didn’t know why Talora always managed to get away with such stuff.
Maeri had received much more attention than she was used to receiving at such an event. News of her engagement had traveled to those who had not been able to attend the ceremony, and she was getting congratulations from people that she barely recognized. However, she was uneasy in the spotlight of such attention.
It was a relief for Maeri when Selima called her to the side, rescuing her from the awkward attention of the wellwishers. Or at least it would have been a relief if the person who had asked her wasn’t Selima of Simeon. This woman was the ideal wife and mother and the last woman that Maeri wanted to embarrass herself in front of. Maeri was certain if they ended up talking one on one, she would definitely find a way to make a fool out of herself. But to refuse would have been even worse. Maeri smiled uncertainly and nodded to her hostess. “Yes of course. We wouldn’t want the laundry to get wet.” Or well, it was in the nature of laundry to get wet, it had to be washed. “Or at least not when you’re trying to get it dry,” she added awkwardly.
Maeri joined Selima out in the yard. She hesitantly reached for some of the hanging washing. She pulled a shirt from the line, crumpling the shoulder in her hand as she looked around for where she was expected to put it.
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Between Maeri’s engagement and her wedding were the New Year’s celebrations in Jerusalem. As much as Maeri often looked forward to such holidays throughout the year, this year, she was hoping that they could just fly by. They were standing between her and her starting her new life as a wife. Finally, she would have some control over her life.
When she was invited to the home of the head of the Meir Manheeg, Simeon, and his wife Selima, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to come. She almost would have rather been heading to Damascus to finish the planning for the wedding. That, however, wasn’t meant to be. She was not about to deny an invitation from Selima. She and her husband were some of the people she most looked up to. Their family was a perfect example of how to live a pious life.
Thus Maeri had found herself at Selima’s house, along with everyone who was anyone in Judea. Well, everyone but Talora. Somehow she had managed to weasel her way out of attending some sort of public function again. She’d seemed perfectly fine earlier in the day but had claimed that she was feeling too unwell to go out again. Maeri knew if she had tried such an excuse she would not have been allowed to get away with it. She didn’t know why Talora always managed to get away with such stuff.
Maeri had received much more attention than she was used to receiving at such an event. News of her engagement had traveled to those who had not been able to attend the ceremony, and she was getting congratulations from people that she barely recognized. However, she was uneasy in the spotlight of such attention.
It was a relief for Maeri when Selima called her to the side, rescuing her from the awkward attention of the wellwishers. Or at least it would have been a relief if the person who had asked her wasn’t Selima of Simeon. This woman was the ideal wife and mother and the last woman that Maeri wanted to embarrass herself in front of. Maeri was certain if they ended up talking one on one, she would definitely find a way to make a fool out of herself. But to refuse would have been even worse. Maeri smiled uncertainly and nodded to her hostess. “Yes of course. We wouldn’t want the laundry to get wet.” Or well, it was in the nature of laundry to get wet, it had to be washed. “Or at least not when you’re trying to get it dry,” she added awkwardly.
Maeri joined Selima out in the yard. She hesitantly reached for some of the hanging washing. She pulled a shirt from the line, crumpling the shoulder in her hand as she looked around for where she was expected to put it.
Between Maeri’s engagement and her wedding were the New Year’s celebrations in Jerusalem. As much as Maeri often looked forward to such holidays throughout the year, this year, she was hoping that they could just fly by. They were standing between her and her starting her new life as a wife. Finally, she would have some control over her life.
When she was invited to the home of the head of the Meir Manheeg, Simeon, and his wife Selima, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to come. She almost would have rather been heading to Damascus to finish the planning for the wedding. That, however, wasn’t meant to be. She was not about to deny an invitation from Selima. She and her husband were some of the people she most looked up to. Their family was a perfect example of how to live a pious life.
Thus Maeri had found herself at Selima’s house, along with everyone who was anyone in Judea. Well, everyone but Talora. Somehow she had managed to weasel her way out of attending some sort of public function again. She’d seemed perfectly fine earlier in the day but had claimed that she was feeling too unwell to go out again. Maeri knew if she had tried such an excuse she would not have been allowed to get away with it. She didn’t know why Talora always managed to get away with such stuff.
Maeri had received much more attention than she was used to receiving at such an event. News of her engagement had traveled to those who had not been able to attend the ceremony, and she was getting congratulations from people that she barely recognized. However, she was uneasy in the spotlight of such attention.
It was a relief for Maeri when Selima called her to the side, rescuing her from the awkward attention of the wellwishers. Or at least it would have been a relief if the person who had asked her wasn’t Selima of Simeon. This woman was the ideal wife and mother and the last woman that Maeri wanted to embarrass herself in front of. Maeri was certain if they ended up talking one on one, she would definitely find a way to make a fool out of herself. But to refuse would have been even worse. Maeri smiled uncertainly and nodded to her hostess. “Yes of course. We wouldn’t want the laundry to get wet.” Or well, it was in the nature of laundry to get wet, it had to be washed. “Or at least not when you’re trying to get it dry,” she added awkwardly.
Maeri joined Selima out in the yard. She hesitantly reached for some of the hanging washing. She pulled a shirt from the line, crumpling the shoulder in her hand as she looked around for where she was expected to put it.
If Maeri had found what she said awkward, Selima didn’t notice it. Selima thought Maeri was adorable. Maeri was a sweet girl with the ability to light up a room with just her presence. Maeri’s positive attitude was intoxicating, and it did wonders to spread smiles to everyone’s faces. Selima always appreciated that in her and wished that others would take a leaf out of her book and strive to be the same. The world could always use more smiles.
“Thank you, dear.” Selima laughed easily as she reached to pull the next thing off the line. That’s when she noticed Maeri crumple the sleeve. “Careful, you might wrinkle it.” Selima wondered if she was ever taught how to fold laundry. She knew of some mothers that thought it a servant’s job or thought that it was the job of the wife, not the children. Selima made sure that Davitah knew so that she would be well prepared when she was married, but Maeri might not have had the same experience.
Or maybe she did. Selima didn’t want to risk patronizing the girl or embarrassing her. She was her guest and she was helping, So Selima decided to take a safer route and blame it on herself. It was so much easier to accept fault to put others at ease. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I’m just very particular about how I fold things. I’ve been this way since I was a child. Old habits die hard, as they say.”
Selima went over to a table where a basket sat. “This is how I fold things.” Selima demonstrated slowly, narrating the entire time before dropping it in the basket. It was true that Selima was particular on how to fold things, especially with how particular Simeon was. Should a winkle be found on his clothes for him to wear, the man would be very displeased. “I find this is the best way to keep things compact for storage, but also to keep things from wrinkling. My mother always said the only way to truly be your best is to also dress your best.”
As she continued folding and placing in the basket, Selima found herself thinking more of Maeri and her impending wedding. It reminded her of the time Abir married. She was worried that he would not be ready. But Abir was a man, and Selima did not have any advice on how to be a proper husband. But if this were Davitah getting married, things would be different. She wondered if Maeri had the chance to talk to her mother about being a proper wife? How long has it been since Yonita was married? And she had her sister as the first wife to also support her.
“Are you ready, Maeri?” Selima asked as she pulled down some more clothes. “Marriage is a lot of responsibility. I remember the month leading up to my wedding with Simeon I was so nervous. I would go to the temple nearly every day to pray for guidance. It was… a little over the top I do admit. After one of those trips my mother sat me down and talked sense into me. She explained to me how to be a proper wife. I still carry her words with me to this day.”
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Oct 22, 2020 13:39:27 GMT
Posted In A Wife's Duty on Oct 22, 2020 13:39:27 GMT
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If Maeri had found what she said awkward, Selima didn’t notice it. Selima thought Maeri was adorable. Maeri was a sweet girl with the ability to light up a room with just her presence. Maeri’s positive attitude was intoxicating, and it did wonders to spread smiles to everyone’s faces. Selima always appreciated that in her and wished that others would take a leaf out of her book and strive to be the same. The world could always use more smiles.
“Thank you, dear.” Selima laughed easily as she reached to pull the next thing off the line. That’s when she noticed Maeri crumple the sleeve. “Careful, you might wrinkle it.” Selima wondered if she was ever taught how to fold laundry. She knew of some mothers that thought it a servant’s job or thought that it was the job of the wife, not the children. Selima made sure that Davitah knew so that she would be well prepared when she was married, but Maeri might not have had the same experience.
Or maybe she did. Selima didn’t want to risk patronizing the girl or embarrassing her. She was her guest and she was helping, So Selima decided to take a safer route and blame it on herself. It was so much easier to accept fault to put others at ease. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I’m just very particular about how I fold things. I’ve been this way since I was a child. Old habits die hard, as they say.”
Selima went over to a table where a basket sat. “This is how I fold things.” Selima demonstrated slowly, narrating the entire time before dropping it in the basket. It was true that Selima was particular on how to fold things, especially with how particular Simeon was. Should a winkle be found on his clothes for him to wear, the man would be very displeased. “I find this is the best way to keep things compact for storage, but also to keep things from wrinkling. My mother always said the only way to truly be your best is to also dress your best.”
As she continued folding and placing in the basket, Selima found herself thinking more of Maeri and her impending wedding. It reminded her of the time Abir married. She was worried that he would not be ready. But Abir was a man, and Selima did not have any advice on how to be a proper husband. But if this were Davitah getting married, things would be different. She wondered if Maeri had the chance to talk to her mother about being a proper wife? How long has it been since Yonita was married? And she had her sister as the first wife to also support her.
“Are you ready, Maeri?” Selima asked as she pulled down some more clothes. “Marriage is a lot of responsibility. I remember the month leading up to my wedding with Simeon I was so nervous. I would go to the temple nearly every day to pray for guidance. It was… a little over the top I do admit. After one of those trips my mother sat me down and talked sense into me. She explained to me how to be a proper wife. I still carry her words with me to this day.”
If Maeri had found what she said awkward, Selima didn’t notice it. Selima thought Maeri was adorable. Maeri was a sweet girl with the ability to light up a room with just her presence. Maeri’s positive attitude was intoxicating, and it did wonders to spread smiles to everyone’s faces. Selima always appreciated that in her and wished that others would take a leaf out of her book and strive to be the same. The world could always use more smiles.
“Thank you, dear.” Selima laughed easily as she reached to pull the next thing off the line. That’s when she noticed Maeri crumple the sleeve. “Careful, you might wrinkle it.” Selima wondered if she was ever taught how to fold laundry. She knew of some mothers that thought it a servant’s job or thought that it was the job of the wife, not the children. Selima made sure that Davitah knew so that she would be well prepared when she was married, but Maeri might not have had the same experience.
Or maybe she did. Selima didn’t want to risk patronizing the girl or embarrassing her. She was her guest and she was helping, So Selima decided to take a safer route and blame it on herself. It was so much easier to accept fault to put others at ease. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I’m just very particular about how I fold things. I’ve been this way since I was a child. Old habits die hard, as they say.”
Selima went over to a table where a basket sat. “This is how I fold things.” Selima demonstrated slowly, narrating the entire time before dropping it in the basket. It was true that Selima was particular on how to fold things, especially with how particular Simeon was. Should a winkle be found on his clothes for him to wear, the man would be very displeased. “I find this is the best way to keep things compact for storage, but also to keep things from wrinkling. My mother always said the only way to truly be your best is to also dress your best.”
As she continued folding and placing in the basket, Selima found herself thinking more of Maeri and her impending wedding. It reminded her of the time Abir married. She was worried that he would not be ready. But Abir was a man, and Selima did not have any advice on how to be a proper husband. But if this were Davitah getting married, things would be different. She wondered if Maeri had the chance to talk to her mother about being a proper wife? How long has it been since Yonita was married? And she had her sister as the first wife to also support her.
“Are you ready, Maeri?” Selima asked as she pulled down some more clothes. “Marriage is a lot of responsibility. I remember the month leading up to my wedding with Simeon I was so nervous. I would go to the temple nearly every day to pray for guidance. It was… a little over the top I do admit. After one of those trips my mother sat me down and talked sense into me. She explained to me how to be a proper wife. I still carry her words with me to this day.”
Maeri was happy to help with whatever Selima wanted. Although it was a bit strange to be asked to help out with household chores while she was at a party, Maeri didn’t think much of it. She was, however, a bit surprised that Selima had asked her of all people. She wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. Still, she didn’t question it. It was nice to not have to figure out how to make small talk with the other guests for a little while.
The taking down of the laundry, she was less sure about. She held the crumpled shirt in her hand for a moment after taking it down from the line, waiting to figure out what Selima wanted her to do with it. Luckily she was quick to show her. Though Maeri blushed as the other woman pointed out that she had been wrinkling the shirt. She hadn’t meant to do anything to make Selima’s work any more difficult.
Maeri followed Selima’s instructions on how to fold the shirt, frowning and biting her lip as she tried to copy the movements of the older woman. She made it look so easy. Maeri’s attempt at replicating it was still inexplicably wrinkled. What were crisp clean folds on Selima’s example were crooked and buckled on her own shirt. She frowned at it, trying to fix it, but everything she did only seemed to make it worse.
When Selima mentioned her mother’s guidance about being a wife, her curiosity was piqued. “Oh?” Maeri tilted her head curiously, “What did she say?” In the back of her head, Maeri was wondering if she had been supposed to be going to the temple to pray for guidance? Was it really that hard to be a wife? Was she supposed to be doing something to prepare? Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was as prepared to be married But she couldn’t just say these things to Selima. She was an important woman and she wouldn’t want to shame herself in front of her by not knowing these things. She certainly hoped her worry wasn’t showing on her face, but she had never been good at hiding such things.
Maeri looked down at the shirt she was working on folding, somehow it had become a ball of fabric. She sighed and bit her lip again, trying to figure out how that had even happened. She picked it up and shook it out again, trying to get the fabric to lay flat again so she could fold it like Selima had told her, but it seemed hopeless. It was already showing wrinkles, and she didn’t want to mess it up any further. She looked at the ground as she admitted her failure to Selima. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m just going to mess up your shirts.” She held out the shirt to Selima to take back before she could mess it up further. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this wife thing after all.
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Maeri was happy to help with whatever Selima wanted. Although it was a bit strange to be asked to help out with household chores while she was at a party, Maeri didn’t think much of it. She was, however, a bit surprised that Selima had asked her of all people. She wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. Still, she didn’t question it. It was nice to not have to figure out how to make small talk with the other guests for a little while.
The taking down of the laundry, she was less sure about. She held the crumpled shirt in her hand for a moment after taking it down from the line, waiting to figure out what Selima wanted her to do with it. Luckily she was quick to show her. Though Maeri blushed as the other woman pointed out that she had been wrinkling the shirt. She hadn’t meant to do anything to make Selima’s work any more difficult.
Maeri followed Selima’s instructions on how to fold the shirt, frowning and biting her lip as she tried to copy the movements of the older woman. She made it look so easy. Maeri’s attempt at replicating it was still inexplicably wrinkled. What were crisp clean folds on Selima’s example were crooked and buckled on her own shirt. She frowned at it, trying to fix it, but everything she did only seemed to make it worse.
When Selima mentioned her mother’s guidance about being a wife, her curiosity was piqued. “Oh?” Maeri tilted her head curiously, “What did she say?” In the back of her head, Maeri was wondering if she had been supposed to be going to the temple to pray for guidance? Was it really that hard to be a wife? Was she supposed to be doing something to prepare? Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was as prepared to be married But she couldn’t just say these things to Selima. She was an important woman and she wouldn’t want to shame herself in front of her by not knowing these things. She certainly hoped her worry wasn’t showing on her face, but she had never been good at hiding such things.
Maeri looked down at the shirt she was working on folding, somehow it had become a ball of fabric. She sighed and bit her lip again, trying to figure out how that had even happened. She picked it up and shook it out again, trying to get the fabric to lay flat again so she could fold it like Selima had told her, but it seemed hopeless. It was already showing wrinkles, and she didn’t want to mess it up any further. She looked at the ground as she admitted her failure to Selima. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m just going to mess up your shirts.” She held out the shirt to Selima to take back before she could mess it up further. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this wife thing after all.
Maeri was happy to help with whatever Selima wanted. Although it was a bit strange to be asked to help out with household chores while she was at a party, Maeri didn’t think much of it. She was, however, a bit surprised that Selima had asked her of all people. She wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. Still, she didn’t question it. It was nice to not have to figure out how to make small talk with the other guests for a little while.
The taking down of the laundry, she was less sure about. She held the crumpled shirt in her hand for a moment after taking it down from the line, waiting to figure out what Selima wanted her to do with it. Luckily she was quick to show her. Though Maeri blushed as the other woman pointed out that she had been wrinkling the shirt. She hadn’t meant to do anything to make Selima’s work any more difficult.
Maeri followed Selima’s instructions on how to fold the shirt, frowning and biting her lip as she tried to copy the movements of the older woman. She made it look so easy. Maeri’s attempt at replicating it was still inexplicably wrinkled. What were crisp clean folds on Selima’s example were crooked and buckled on her own shirt. She frowned at it, trying to fix it, but everything she did only seemed to make it worse.
When Selima mentioned her mother’s guidance about being a wife, her curiosity was piqued. “Oh?” Maeri tilted her head curiously, “What did she say?” In the back of her head, Maeri was wondering if she had been supposed to be going to the temple to pray for guidance? Was it really that hard to be a wife? Was she supposed to be doing something to prepare? Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was as prepared to be married But she couldn’t just say these things to Selima. She was an important woman and she wouldn’t want to shame herself in front of her by not knowing these things. She certainly hoped her worry wasn’t showing on her face, but she had never been good at hiding such things.
Maeri looked down at the shirt she was working on folding, somehow it had become a ball of fabric. She sighed and bit her lip again, trying to figure out how that had even happened. She picked it up and shook it out again, trying to get the fabric to lay flat again so she could fold it like Selima had told her, but it seemed hopeless. It was already showing wrinkles, and she didn’t want to mess it up any further. She looked at the ground as she admitted her failure to Selima. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m just going to mess up your shirts.” She held out the shirt to Selima to take back before she could mess it up further. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this wife thing after all.
Maeri reminded Selima a little of herself before she had married Simeon. She looked to be trying so hard, and when her head dropped with the same of failure, Selima remembered just how it felt. Small things, such as folding laundry or cooking dinner, felt as if they were monumental tasks that if she could not accomplish she could never be a good wife. Each failure added to the stress and eventually, she thought she would fail.
Selima smiled amused, despite herself, as she carefully took the shirt and once again slowly showed Maeri how to fold it the correct way. “What my mother told me surprised me. I didn’t think she was right at first. But she was, my mother was always right. What she told me was there is no such thing as a proper wife. The only thing that exists is a happy one.”
Selima put the shirt to the side and started with Simeon’s pants, showing Maeri too how to fold those. She remembered being so angry with her mother when she was young. She thought she would fail, surely. All she grew up learning was how to be proper, was how to be right. Now suddenly being proper doesn’t exist? Doesn’t matter? But as Selima grew older and older, she realized what her mother actually meant.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri. You’ll be Maeri of Amiti. When Amiti is happy, Maeri, you’ll be happy. When he’s sad, you’ll be sad. When he’s angry, you’ll be angry. It won’t be because you have to be. It’s just the way it is. It’s… because you care about each other deeply.” Which was why, perhaps, Selima tried to see the right in her husband so often. She was married to him. She was his partner. She was a part of him, and he was a part of her. He was the father of her children. There was no denying the bond that existed between man and wife, even if it was a bond that so often hurt Selima.
“Forget being a proper wife, Maeri. Be a happy one. When your husband is pleased, so will you be. And the best way to learn about what he enjoys is to talk to him. You’ll stumble and make some mistakes along the way, but then you’ll learn and be better. That’s how you be a good wife, Maeri.” And she’ll have an easier time, Selima hoped. She hoped Amiti was a good man, and not near as angry as her husband. She hoped that Amiti will find happiness just by being near Maeri. That’s how a marriage should be. This was their life, and they should live it with smiles on their faces.
It was Abir’s clothes she was working on next. To which caused Selima to hesitate on her next words. She did not want to live Maeri astray. “Just remember when it comes to happiness to not be selfish with it, Maeri. So long as you keep your husband in mind, and support him as he should support you, then you both will have a joyous union.”
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Maeri reminded Selima a little of herself before she had married Simeon. She looked to be trying so hard, and when her head dropped with the same of failure, Selima remembered just how it felt. Small things, such as folding laundry or cooking dinner, felt as if they were monumental tasks that if she could not accomplish she could never be a good wife. Each failure added to the stress and eventually, she thought she would fail.
Selima smiled amused, despite herself, as she carefully took the shirt and once again slowly showed Maeri how to fold it the correct way. “What my mother told me surprised me. I didn’t think she was right at first. But she was, my mother was always right. What she told me was there is no such thing as a proper wife. The only thing that exists is a happy one.”
Selima put the shirt to the side and started with Simeon’s pants, showing Maeri too how to fold those. She remembered being so angry with her mother when she was young. She thought she would fail, surely. All she grew up learning was how to be proper, was how to be right. Now suddenly being proper doesn’t exist? Doesn’t matter? But as Selima grew older and older, she realized what her mother actually meant.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri. You’ll be Maeri of Amiti. When Amiti is happy, Maeri, you’ll be happy. When he’s sad, you’ll be sad. When he’s angry, you’ll be angry. It won’t be because you have to be. It’s just the way it is. It’s… because you care about each other deeply.” Which was why, perhaps, Selima tried to see the right in her husband so often. She was married to him. She was his partner. She was a part of him, and he was a part of her. He was the father of her children. There was no denying the bond that existed between man and wife, even if it was a bond that so often hurt Selima.
“Forget being a proper wife, Maeri. Be a happy one. When your husband is pleased, so will you be. And the best way to learn about what he enjoys is to talk to him. You’ll stumble and make some mistakes along the way, but then you’ll learn and be better. That’s how you be a good wife, Maeri.” And she’ll have an easier time, Selima hoped. She hoped Amiti was a good man, and not near as angry as her husband. She hoped that Amiti will find happiness just by being near Maeri. That’s how a marriage should be. This was their life, and they should live it with smiles on their faces.
It was Abir’s clothes she was working on next. To which caused Selima to hesitate on her next words. She did not want to live Maeri astray. “Just remember when it comes to happiness to not be selfish with it, Maeri. So long as you keep your husband in mind, and support him as he should support you, then you both will have a joyous union.”
Maeri reminded Selima a little of herself before she had married Simeon. She looked to be trying so hard, and when her head dropped with the same of failure, Selima remembered just how it felt. Small things, such as folding laundry or cooking dinner, felt as if they were monumental tasks that if she could not accomplish she could never be a good wife. Each failure added to the stress and eventually, she thought she would fail.
Selima smiled amused, despite herself, as she carefully took the shirt and once again slowly showed Maeri how to fold it the correct way. “What my mother told me surprised me. I didn’t think she was right at first. But she was, my mother was always right. What she told me was there is no such thing as a proper wife. The only thing that exists is a happy one.”
Selima put the shirt to the side and started with Simeon’s pants, showing Maeri too how to fold those. She remembered being so angry with her mother when she was young. She thought she would fail, surely. All she grew up learning was how to be proper, was how to be right. Now suddenly being proper doesn’t exist? Doesn’t matter? But as Selima grew older and older, she realized what her mother actually meant.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri. You’ll be Maeri of Amiti. When Amiti is happy, Maeri, you’ll be happy. When he’s sad, you’ll be sad. When he’s angry, you’ll be angry. It won’t be because you have to be. It’s just the way it is. It’s… because you care about each other deeply.” Which was why, perhaps, Selima tried to see the right in her husband so often. She was married to him. She was his partner. She was a part of him, and he was a part of her. He was the father of her children. There was no denying the bond that existed between man and wife, even if it was a bond that so often hurt Selima.
“Forget being a proper wife, Maeri. Be a happy one. When your husband is pleased, so will you be. And the best way to learn about what he enjoys is to talk to him. You’ll stumble and make some mistakes along the way, but then you’ll learn and be better. That’s how you be a good wife, Maeri.” And she’ll have an easier time, Selima hoped. She hoped Amiti was a good man, and not near as angry as her husband. She hoped that Amiti will find happiness just by being near Maeri. That’s how a marriage should be. This was their life, and they should live it with smiles on their faces.
It was Abir’s clothes she was working on next. To which caused Selima to hesitate on her next words. She did not want to live Maeri astray. “Just remember when it comes to happiness to not be selfish with it, Maeri. So long as you keep your husband in mind, and support him as he should support you, then you both will have a joyous union.”
Maeri was relieved when Selima finally took the shirt from her. Hopefully it had not been wrinkled so badly that Selima couldn’t set it right. Maeri tried to follow along as she demonstrated how to fold the shirt again, but she managed to fold it so quickly and efficiently that Maeri was certainly sure that she couldn’t emulate it. Thankfully, she moved on to showing her how to fold pants, so Maeri didn’t have to fail again at the task Selima had set her.
This task seemed simpler, though Maeri was definitely not as quick at it as Selima. She tried to follow what the woman had done, checking and double checking at each step to ensure that the wrinkles didn’t appear. As she meticulously lined up each leg, making sure that the other side of the leg hadn’t wrinkled as she did so, Selima continued her advice for Maeri.
The advice given was as unexpected to Maeri as it had been to Selima, If all she had to be was happy, that wouldn’t be too hard would it? She always tried to be happy, and usually she succeeded. It was certainly easier to accomplish than having to perfectly manage a household. It seemed to be so different than anything that Maeri had been told about being a wife, but how could she say that it was wrong. She had never been a wife, and Selima was widely known as one of the most prominent and most pious women in Judea. Whatever she knew about being a wife had to be correct.
No as Selima went on, it was more complicated than that. Making Amiti happy was supposed to make her happy? And Amiti was supposed to try to make her happy? Maeri stopped her careful folding for a moment to contemplate what Selima had said. It seemed like a question with no answer, both potential solutions relying on the other. Suddenly everything seemed even more complicated and left her head swimming.
“So I’m supposed to be happy so I can make my husband happy?” Maeri asked, trying to wrap her head around what Selima was saying. It sounded very complicated. “What if what makes me happy doesn’t make him happy? Aren’t I supposed to listen to what he tells me to do?” Admittedly her knowledge of what deferring to a husband looked like was almost entirely theoretical, with her father dying when she was young. Maybe that’s not how it worked. Maybe because he was her husband he’d just be glad that she was happy. That was a comforting thought.
Shecarefully finished up the pants she was working on and handed them back to Selima, who added yet another thought to the advice. That had Maeri frowning, no maybe it wasn’t that she needed to make herself happy. Maybe she had it the wrong way around. That she would only be happy when Amiti was happy. She wasn’t sure she liked that interpretation very much. Amiti had always been very kind to her, but he was always so serious. Did that mean she was going to become that serious as well? That was an outcome she wasn’t sure she liked.
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Dec 18, 2020 20:08:00 GMT
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Maeri was relieved when Selima finally took the shirt from her. Hopefully it had not been wrinkled so badly that Selima couldn’t set it right. Maeri tried to follow along as she demonstrated how to fold the shirt again, but she managed to fold it so quickly and efficiently that Maeri was certainly sure that she couldn’t emulate it. Thankfully, she moved on to showing her how to fold pants, so Maeri didn’t have to fail again at the task Selima had set her.
This task seemed simpler, though Maeri was definitely not as quick at it as Selima. She tried to follow what the woman had done, checking and double checking at each step to ensure that the wrinkles didn’t appear. As she meticulously lined up each leg, making sure that the other side of the leg hadn’t wrinkled as she did so, Selima continued her advice for Maeri.
The advice given was as unexpected to Maeri as it had been to Selima, If all she had to be was happy, that wouldn’t be too hard would it? She always tried to be happy, and usually she succeeded. It was certainly easier to accomplish than having to perfectly manage a household. It seemed to be so different than anything that Maeri had been told about being a wife, but how could she say that it was wrong. She had never been a wife, and Selima was widely known as one of the most prominent and most pious women in Judea. Whatever she knew about being a wife had to be correct.
No as Selima went on, it was more complicated than that. Making Amiti happy was supposed to make her happy? And Amiti was supposed to try to make her happy? Maeri stopped her careful folding for a moment to contemplate what Selima had said. It seemed like a question with no answer, both potential solutions relying on the other. Suddenly everything seemed even more complicated and left her head swimming.
“So I’m supposed to be happy so I can make my husband happy?” Maeri asked, trying to wrap her head around what Selima was saying. It sounded very complicated. “What if what makes me happy doesn’t make him happy? Aren’t I supposed to listen to what he tells me to do?” Admittedly her knowledge of what deferring to a husband looked like was almost entirely theoretical, with her father dying when she was young. Maybe that’s not how it worked. Maybe because he was her husband he’d just be glad that she was happy. That was a comforting thought.
Shecarefully finished up the pants she was working on and handed them back to Selima, who added yet another thought to the advice. That had Maeri frowning, no maybe it wasn’t that she needed to make herself happy. Maybe she had it the wrong way around. That she would only be happy when Amiti was happy. She wasn’t sure she liked that interpretation very much. Amiti had always been very kind to her, but he was always so serious. Did that mean she was going to become that serious as well? That was an outcome she wasn’t sure she liked.
Maeri was relieved when Selima finally took the shirt from her. Hopefully it had not been wrinkled so badly that Selima couldn’t set it right. Maeri tried to follow along as she demonstrated how to fold the shirt again, but she managed to fold it so quickly and efficiently that Maeri was certainly sure that she couldn’t emulate it. Thankfully, she moved on to showing her how to fold pants, so Maeri didn’t have to fail again at the task Selima had set her.
This task seemed simpler, though Maeri was definitely not as quick at it as Selima. She tried to follow what the woman had done, checking and double checking at each step to ensure that the wrinkles didn’t appear. As she meticulously lined up each leg, making sure that the other side of the leg hadn’t wrinkled as she did so, Selima continued her advice for Maeri.
The advice given was as unexpected to Maeri as it had been to Selima, If all she had to be was happy, that wouldn’t be too hard would it? She always tried to be happy, and usually she succeeded. It was certainly easier to accomplish than having to perfectly manage a household. It seemed to be so different than anything that Maeri had been told about being a wife, but how could she say that it was wrong. She had never been a wife, and Selima was widely known as one of the most prominent and most pious women in Judea. Whatever she knew about being a wife had to be correct.
No as Selima went on, it was more complicated than that. Making Amiti happy was supposed to make her happy? And Amiti was supposed to try to make her happy? Maeri stopped her careful folding for a moment to contemplate what Selima had said. It seemed like a question with no answer, both potential solutions relying on the other. Suddenly everything seemed even more complicated and left her head swimming.
“So I’m supposed to be happy so I can make my husband happy?” Maeri asked, trying to wrap her head around what Selima was saying. It sounded very complicated. “What if what makes me happy doesn’t make him happy? Aren’t I supposed to listen to what he tells me to do?” Admittedly her knowledge of what deferring to a husband looked like was almost entirely theoretical, with her father dying when she was young. Maybe that’s not how it worked. Maybe because he was her husband he’d just be glad that she was happy. That was a comforting thought.
Shecarefully finished up the pants she was working on and handed them back to Selima, who added yet another thought to the advice. That had Maeri frowning, no maybe it wasn’t that she needed to make herself happy. Maybe she had it the wrong way around. That she would only be happy when Amiti was happy. She wasn’t sure she liked that interpretation very much. Amiti had always been very kind to her, but he was always so serious. Did that mean she was going to become that serious as well? That was an outcome she wasn’t sure she liked.
She didn’t seem to quite understand what Selima was saying. That was to be expected. After all, it took her so many years to understand what her mother had told her. And even still, when Selima is in her darkest moments, she finds herself struggling to understand those words.
But it is when Selima is at her best when a smile is easy, and her heart is filled with joy do those words seem to be at it’s most clear. When her husband is upset, Selima was as well. When he is happy, she is happy.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri.” Selima tried explaining again, in different words. “It’s more than just a legal joining of houses. It’s a union under Yahweh. It’s almost as if you’re intermingling souls. Amiti will be in every way a part of you.”
Simeon hurt Selima, not that she would ever admit it. But he was her husband. Selima could not imagine a world without him. He scared her at times. He had caused tears. And she feared for her children. But she was married to him, and to lose Simeon would be like losing herself. It was… difficult to put words to.
“You’ll find that, in time, when your husband is happy will cause you to be happy. When your husband is upset, you’ll feel upset. The same, in time, will go for him. Your husband will bring out parts of you that you never knew existed, the best parts of you. There’s no right way to be a wife. So long as you’re selfless, so long as you bring him joy, and so long as you feel joy yourself, you will be a grand wife.”
Selima hesitated- thinking of Katriel. She was not selfless, and that certainly caused troubles between her and Abir. And… Simeon was not always selfless as well, but Selima tried hard not to think ill of him. But that was key in a marriage- to think of others.
“I want to emphasize selfless,” Selima said, as she finished folding her laundry. She turned to face Maeri directly. “We teach people to be giving, to care about one’s neighbor and family. A marriage is a partnership. You become one. Should you care only about yourself, the other will suffer. And should he only care of himself, you will suffer. To be a good wife… you should care for him. And for him to be a good husband… he shall care for you.”
Selima wondered if any of this made sense. Likely not. It was all confusing, even if… it also sounded like common sense. Selima laughed, and held Maeri’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “Everything will make sense in time. And I know you will be a wonderful wife. Should you ever need my support, you know you can always come to me.”
Selima let go of her hands and gathered the laundry. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride. Should he be alive, your father would be so proud. You grew to be such a lovely, wonderful woman, Maeri. That’s all he would have ever wanted. And Amiti is a fine man.”
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She didn’t seem to quite understand what Selima was saying. That was to be expected. After all, it took her so many years to understand what her mother had told her. And even still, when Selima is in her darkest moments, she finds herself struggling to understand those words.
But it is when Selima is at her best when a smile is easy, and her heart is filled with joy do those words seem to be at it’s most clear. When her husband is upset, Selima was as well. When he is happy, she is happy.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri.” Selima tried explaining again, in different words. “It’s more than just a legal joining of houses. It’s a union under Yahweh. It’s almost as if you’re intermingling souls. Amiti will be in every way a part of you.”
Simeon hurt Selima, not that she would ever admit it. But he was her husband. Selima could not imagine a world without him. He scared her at times. He had caused tears. And she feared for her children. But she was married to him, and to lose Simeon would be like losing herself. It was… difficult to put words to.
“You’ll find that, in time, when your husband is happy will cause you to be happy. When your husband is upset, you’ll feel upset. The same, in time, will go for him. Your husband will bring out parts of you that you never knew existed, the best parts of you. There’s no right way to be a wife. So long as you’re selfless, so long as you bring him joy, and so long as you feel joy yourself, you will be a grand wife.”
Selima hesitated- thinking of Katriel. She was not selfless, and that certainly caused troubles between her and Abir. And… Simeon was not always selfless as well, but Selima tried hard not to think ill of him. But that was key in a marriage- to think of others.
“I want to emphasize selfless,” Selima said, as she finished folding her laundry. She turned to face Maeri directly. “We teach people to be giving, to care about one’s neighbor and family. A marriage is a partnership. You become one. Should you care only about yourself, the other will suffer. And should he only care of himself, you will suffer. To be a good wife… you should care for him. And for him to be a good husband… he shall care for you.”
Selima wondered if any of this made sense. Likely not. It was all confusing, even if… it also sounded like common sense. Selima laughed, and held Maeri’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “Everything will make sense in time. And I know you will be a wonderful wife. Should you ever need my support, you know you can always come to me.”
Selima let go of her hands and gathered the laundry. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride. Should he be alive, your father would be so proud. You grew to be such a lovely, wonderful woman, Maeri. That’s all he would have ever wanted. And Amiti is a fine man.”
She didn’t seem to quite understand what Selima was saying. That was to be expected. After all, it took her so many years to understand what her mother had told her. And even still, when Selima is in her darkest moments, she finds herself struggling to understand those words.
But it is when Selima is at her best when a smile is easy, and her heart is filled with joy do those words seem to be at it’s most clear. When her husband is upset, Selima was as well. When he is happy, she is happy.
“Marriage is a partnership, Maeri.” Selima tried explaining again, in different words. “It’s more than just a legal joining of houses. It’s a union under Yahweh. It’s almost as if you’re intermingling souls. Amiti will be in every way a part of you.”
Simeon hurt Selima, not that she would ever admit it. But he was her husband. Selima could not imagine a world without him. He scared her at times. He had caused tears. And she feared for her children. But she was married to him, and to lose Simeon would be like losing herself. It was… difficult to put words to.
“You’ll find that, in time, when your husband is happy will cause you to be happy. When your husband is upset, you’ll feel upset. The same, in time, will go for him. Your husband will bring out parts of you that you never knew existed, the best parts of you. There’s no right way to be a wife. So long as you’re selfless, so long as you bring him joy, and so long as you feel joy yourself, you will be a grand wife.”
Selima hesitated- thinking of Katriel. She was not selfless, and that certainly caused troubles between her and Abir. And… Simeon was not always selfless as well, but Selima tried hard not to think ill of him. But that was key in a marriage- to think of others.
“I want to emphasize selfless,” Selima said, as she finished folding her laundry. She turned to face Maeri directly. “We teach people to be giving, to care about one’s neighbor and family. A marriage is a partnership. You become one. Should you care only about yourself, the other will suffer. And should he only care of himself, you will suffer. To be a good wife… you should care for him. And for him to be a good husband… he shall care for you.”
Selima wondered if any of this made sense. Likely not. It was all confusing, even if… it also sounded like common sense. Selima laughed, and held Maeri’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “Everything will make sense in time. And I know you will be a wonderful wife. Should you ever need my support, you know you can always come to me.”
Selima let go of her hands and gathered the laundry. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride. Should he be alive, your father would be so proud. You grew to be such a lovely, wonderful woman, Maeri. That’s all he would have ever wanted. And Amiti is a fine man.”
Maeri was glad to have the laundry to focus on as Selima was talking. The pants she had folded had appeared to be acceptable enough, so she moved on to another pair as Selima tried to explain what she meant about being a proper wife. The whole thing seemed very complicated and impossible to understand. The idea of mingling souls, that sounded almost a little bit scary. Did that mean that he would be able to tell her thoughts, or her his? That would be very strange. No that couldn’t be true, besides, if that was what she meant, she was sure Selima would just come out and say it. She wouldn’t ask and reveal her own silly thoughts.
Instead she just smiled politely, and carefully worked on her folding. She didn’t want any question to give away how little she knew about marriage. She hadn’t even had much opportunity to observe it in action. Her father had died leaving her mother and aunt widowed. She had always admired how the two of them had stayed together and kept her and her sisters united as a family, even without their fathers’ presence. That was the kind of relationship she hoped to have one day, that is if Amiti wanted a second wife. She supposed he might not want one. He had waited a long time to even pick a first one. She liked the idea of having a friend to help out with running the house and raising the children. A team responsible for holding the family together. Being a wife on her own seemed like it might be very lonely.
Though, it seemed as if perhaps it wouldn’t be. That she and her husband would grow closer together, and they might be able to become friends. Well that is if she understood Selima right. She wasn’t entirely sure she had.
Just as Maeri finished her folding, Selima turned to her taking her hands. Selima’s gaze seemed to see right through her and see all her insecurities about being a new wife. But instead of making fun of them, she knew exactly what to say to make her feel better and more confident. “Selflessness,” she repeated back with a bit of nod to make sure that Selima knew she had been paying attention.
She smiled broadly as Selima complimented her beauty, but then the talk of her dad came up. “I wish he could be here for this. It would have been nice to have him at my wedding.” It wasn’t often she thought of her father. It was always such a sad thing to think about and she didn’t like to dwell on sad things. But this thought was more bittersweet than sad. Even without her father there, it would be a nice wedding, or so she hoped.
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Maeri was glad to have the laundry to focus on as Selima was talking. The pants she had folded had appeared to be acceptable enough, so she moved on to another pair as Selima tried to explain what she meant about being a proper wife. The whole thing seemed very complicated and impossible to understand. The idea of mingling souls, that sounded almost a little bit scary. Did that mean that he would be able to tell her thoughts, or her his? That would be very strange. No that couldn’t be true, besides, if that was what she meant, she was sure Selima would just come out and say it. She wouldn’t ask and reveal her own silly thoughts.
Instead she just smiled politely, and carefully worked on her folding. She didn’t want any question to give away how little she knew about marriage. She hadn’t even had much opportunity to observe it in action. Her father had died leaving her mother and aunt widowed. She had always admired how the two of them had stayed together and kept her and her sisters united as a family, even without their fathers’ presence. That was the kind of relationship she hoped to have one day, that is if Amiti wanted a second wife. She supposed he might not want one. He had waited a long time to even pick a first one. She liked the idea of having a friend to help out with running the house and raising the children. A team responsible for holding the family together. Being a wife on her own seemed like it might be very lonely.
Though, it seemed as if perhaps it wouldn’t be. That she and her husband would grow closer together, and they might be able to become friends. Well that is if she understood Selima right. She wasn’t entirely sure she had.
Just as Maeri finished her folding, Selima turned to her taking her hands. Selima’s gaze seemed to see right through her and see all her insecurities about being a new wife. But instead of making fun of them, she knew exactly what to say to make her feel better and more confident. “Selflessness,” she repeated back with a bit of nod to make sure that Selima knew she had been paying attention.
She smiled broadly as Selima complimented her beauty, but then the talk of her dad came up. “I wish he could be here for this. It would have been nice to have him at my wedding.” It wasn’t often she thought of her father. It was always such a sad thing to think about and she didn’t like to dwell on sad things. But this thought was more bittersweet than sad. Even without her father there, it would be a nice wedding, or so she hoped.
Maeri was glad to have the laundry to focus on as Selima was talking. The pants she had folded had appeared to be acceptable enough, so she moved on to another pair as Selima tried to explain what she meant about being a proper wife. The whole thing seemed very complicated and impossible to understand. The idea of mingling souls, that sounded almost a little bit scary. Did that mean that he would be able to tell her thoughts, or her his? That would be very strange. No that couldn’t be true, besides, if that was what she meant, she was sure Selima would just come out and say it. She wouldn’t ask and reveal her own silly thoughts.
Instead she just smiled politely, and carefully worked on her folding. She didn’t want any question to give away how little she knew about marriage. She hadn’t even had much opportunity to observe it in action. Her father had died leaving her mother and aunt widowed. She had always admired how the two of them had stayed together and kept her and her sisters united as a family, even without their fathers’ presence. That was the kind of relationship she hoped to have one day, that is if Amiti wanted a second wife. She supposed he might not want one. He had waited a long time to even pick a first one. She liked the idea of having a friend to help out with running the house and raising the children. A team responsible for holding the family together. Being a wife on her own seemed like it might be very lonely.
Though, it seemed as if perhaps it wouldn’t be. That she and her husband would grow closer together, and they might be able to become friends. Well that is if she understood Selima right. She wasn’t entirely sure she had.
Just as Maeri finished her folding, Selima turned to her taking her hands. Selima’s gaze seemed to see right through her and see all her insecurities about being a new wife. But instead of making fun of them, she knew exactly what to say to make her feel better and more confident. “Selflessness,” she repeated back with a bit of nod to make sure that Selima knew she had been paying attention.
She smiled broadly as Selima complimented her beauty, but then the talk of her dad came up. “I wish he could be here for this. It would have been nice to have him at my wedding.” It wasn’t often she thought of her father. It was always such a sad thing to think about and she didn’t like to dwell on sad things. But this thought was more bittersweet than sad. Even without her father there, it would be a nice wedding, or so she hoped.
The happiest part of Selima’s wedding was not that she was getting married to Simeon, nor was it the congratulations from all of her friends, or the time spent alone together with her husband (which frankly was the most awkward part of that entire time). It was the smiling face of her mother, the sparkling tears in her eyes, and the pride that Selima felt for doing her duty for her family.
“I wish he could be here too.” Selima agreed quietly. “He was such a good man. So pure of heart, just like his daughter. And he was funny. That’s what I remember most about him. I swear, I have yet to meet a man with a sense of humor like he had. I still am recovering from a pulled muscle over one dinner that had me laughing so hard. If he was here, I ought to give him a piece of his mind.”
Selima smiled at Maeri, and reached over to straighten the scarf on her head, fussing just as a mother does. “This wedding will be one of the best days in your entire life. You will look around and try to remember everything, down to the smallest detail. But remember, live in the moment. It’s only one day and it will go by so fast. Before you know it, it’ll be over and nothing but a memory. A beautiful memory.”
And should it remain a beautiful memory. Selima did not wish for the future to taint it. In fights with Amiti, she hoped that Maeri would not once regret that day. That when thinking at all the smiling faces looking towards her, she’ll feel the warmth of love that this community gave to her that day.
“Now come, let’s hurry and rejoin the party. The rain is about to come down.” Selima grabbed the basket of clothes and put a hand on Maeri’s back. “Hurry now.”
One day Maeri would be having this conversation with her own daughter. She would have her own advice, her own experience in marriage to help shape what she says. But Selima hoped that her words would carry some weight, and that they may continue to give guidance in the generation to come. As much as she wished to ease Maeri’s burden this was also a way for Selima to give back to the community. For while Maeri may not be of her blood, she was Judean, and all Judeans were family.
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The happiest part of Selima’s wedding was not that she was getting married to Simeon, nor was it the congratulations from all of her friends, or the time spent alone together with her husband (which frankly was the most awkward part of that entire time). It was the smiling face of her mother, the sparkling tears in her eyes, and the pride that Selima felt for doing her duty for her family.
“I wish he could be here too.” Selima agreed quietly. “He was such a good man. So pure of heart, just like his daughter. And he was funny. That’s what I remember most about him. I swear, I have yet to meet a man with a sense of humor like he had. I still am recovering from a pulled muscle over one dinner that had me laughing so hard. If he was here, I ought to give him a piece of his mind.”
Selima smiled at Maeri, and reached over to straighten the scarf on her head, fussing just as a mother does. “This wedding will be one of the best days in your entire life. You will look around and try to remember everything, down to the smallest detail. But remember, live in the moment. It’s only one day and it will go by so fast. Before you know it, it’ll be over and nothing but a memory. A beautiful memory.”
And should it remain a beautiful memory. Selima did not wish for the future to taint it. In fights with Amiti, she hoped that Maeri would not once regret that day. That when thinking at all the smiling faces looking towards her, she’ll feel the warmth of love that this community gave to her that day.
“Now come, let’s hurry and rejoin the party. The rain is about to come down.” Selima grabbed the basket of clothes and put a hand on Maeri’s back. “Hurry now.”
One day Maeri would be having this conversation with her own daughter. She would have her own advice, her own experience in marriage to help shape what she says. But Selima hoped that her words would carry some weight, and that they may continue to give guidance in the generation to come. As much as she wished to ease Maeri’s burden this was also a way for Selima to give back to the community. For while Maeri may not be of her blood, she was Judean, and all Judeans were family.
The happiest part of Selima’s wedding was not that she was getting married to Simeon, nor was it the congratulations from all of her friends, or the time spent alone together with her husband (which frankly was the most awkward part of that entire time). It was the smiling face of her mother, the sparkling tears in her eyes, and the pride that Selima felt for doing her duty for her family.
“I wish he could be here too.” Selima agreed quietly. “He was such a good man. So pure of heart, just like his daughter. And he was funny. That’s what I remember most about him. I swear, I have yet to meet a man with a sense of humor like he had. I still am recovering from a pulled muscle over one dinner that had me laughing so hard. If he was here, I ought to give him a piece of his mind.”
Selima smiled at Maeri, and reached over to straighten the scarf on her head, fussing just as a mother does. “This wedding will be one of the best days in your entire life. You will look around and try to remember everything, down to the smallest detail. But remember, live in the moment. It’s only one day and it will go by so fast. Before you know it, it’ll be over and nothing but a memory. A beautiful memory.”
And should it remain a beautiful memory. Selima did not wish for the future to taint it. In fights with Amiti, she hoped that Maeri would not once regret that day. That when thinking at all the smiling faces looking towards her, she’ll feel the warmth of love that this community gave to her that day.
“Now come, let’s hurry and rejoin the party. The rain is about to come down.” Selima grabbed the basket of clothes and put a hand on Maeri’s back. “Hurry now.”
One day Maeri would be having this conversation with her own daughter. She would have her own advice, her own experience in marriage to help shape what she says. But Selima hoped that her words would carry some weight, and that they may continue to give guidance in the generation to come. As much as she wished to ease Maeri’s burden this was also a way for Selima to give back to the community. For while Maeri may not be of her blood, she was Judean, and all Judeans were family.
