He came for physiotherapy—a sixty-year-old man who had seen the changes of the weather through time. I was the lady in charge that day. He pointed to the pain, and I gently massaged it away. His spine, his joints, his waist, everything hurt. After two sessions, he told me, “My wife is having the same problem. She won’t come here. Can you come home to do it for her?”

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He took my number and said he would let me talk to his wife. He called, and I was on the phone for several minutes convincing this woman that physiotherapy works and that I was the best person to work on her. Eventually, she asked, “Can you come home? I’m too frail to walk around.”

One Sunday afternoon, I went to their house. I laid her on the table and gently worked on her. There were crackling sounds of bones settling. She kept pointing to places and telling me, “Yeah, here too. Stay there a little bit longer.”

While working on her, a gentleman was standing behind me, watching. I didn’t notice until my instinct told me to look back. He had a bright face on, as if he were watching an opera. He said, “Eii, at long last our ears will rest from hearing complaints of body pains.”

By the third week, I had become a friend of the house and of that gentleman who stood behind me. He even had my number but didn’t call me. His name was Nathan, the man’s third child.

One day, while working on the mother alone in the house, she said, “You see Nathan? He’s young, but he has pains you can help heal. He won’t admit it, but ask him about it.”

When we spoke and I mentioned what his mother had told me, he exclaimed, “Oh, she told you that? This woman is an incredible gossip.”

They had talked about me, and his mother had asked him to talk to me about love because she thought I was a good person. According to Nathan, his mother told him, “She heals pains, so maybe she can heal the pain in your heart too.”

He had gone through a very bitter breakup a year earlier. He had been on the verge of marrying the lady, but they fought over another man who was also in the picture. The fight didn’t end well, so they broke up.

I stopped going there when my work with them ended, but Nathan called once in a while. We met once, and then he asked me out on a date. I asked, “What for?” He answered, “Maybe we can discuss what my mother said. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe your hands can reach my heart.”

We dated for six months and got married in the seventh month. On our wedding day, the two parents shared stories of how they found me and how I became part of the house because of what they saw in me. Nathan’s mom asked him, “So what did you also see in her?” He responded, “Exactly what you said. Her hands could reach my heart to heal the pain in there.”

We have been married for five years. We lived in his parents’ house for two years before moving to our own place. It was hard for me to leave because those two old folks had become my everything. My mother-in-law would cook for me and later say, “I broke a bone while standing to prepare this meal. Work on me.”

His father was a very reserved person, but each time I sat next to him or watched a TV program with him, he shared stories I didn’t want to end, interesting insights about life and how everything began for him. I asked Nathan, “Do we have to leave? This is also home for us.” He told me, “It’s a home, but unfortunately not ours. We need our own. We can always come back.”

Marriage Through the Eyes of Millennials and Gen-Z

We are who we are today because of them, so we don’t leave them out of anything. I love them like my own parents, if not more. I’m sitting next to my mother-in-law while writing this. She’s such a blessing. I bless the road that led me to them. I believe the same road will lead us to where our marriage will find growth in peace.

—Mansa

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