The signor I worked for offered me to be his wife, and I agreed, but I did not expect such a reaction from the children.

What can I say? Italian in a few sentences? Well, as usual, love of pasta, pizza and lasagna. The world famous hand gesture that they use for any reason. And, of course, a peculiar attitude to life. Rest is above all else, and work is secondary. Beautiful life in a beautiful country, why bother? Better to go to the stadium again. It's football tonight.



Seriously, Italy is different. Moreover, the Italians themselves can hoarsely tell foreigners that they are real Italians, and those in the village a few kilometers away are a misunderstanding. However, on a cursory examination it turns out that they are all related to each other. That's the temperament. But parents are treated with due respect, it is certainly not taken away from them.

When I first thought about moving to another country, my children were already adults, but in my opinion, still could not stand on two legs. Yeah, my oldest daughter's 22, my son's 19. Now I know that in the world this age is considered quite normal for independent living. And then... Probably because of the financial situation of the country. If a teenager can already go to work and live separately, that’s one thing. But if you still need help from your parents, then things are not so good.

My husband passed away at 48. Illness. I was 2 years younger than him and didn’t know what to do. Two children, a house and even a car. But without a man in the house, it all seemed so complicated that I just wanted to grab my head and cry. Depression came, I did not want to eat or go out. I lost about 15 kilograms, although I was always inclined to be full.



A new round helped friends and children. We somehow in the environment it was not customary to work with psychologists, and in that state to communicate with an outsider on such personal topics. I admit, I just couldn't. So the close circle became my mainstay. My son and daughter took up life in our apartment, and the girls with whom I have long been acquainted, came to me and somehow tried to talk, shared stories about their lives, supported and consoled.

After a year or so, I finally recovered and even got a part-time job. The money accumulated in advance was enough not to take debts and not to sell any of the property. Well, how do you imagine all this, if the main breadwinner in our family has always been a beloved husband, and I worked only in my youth, and even then, nothing serious: an ice cream seller. Any student would have done it, I guess.



And then one of my friends told me that she was going to go to Italy to work as a nurse. She began to invite me to come with her. She said the job is not sugar. But they pay well and, in general, what keeps me if the children are adults and they would even need an apartment while I am away. You see, I'll help you with the money. But all these conversations ended in nothing: I did not agree, and my friend could not collect all the necessary documents. Plus, her daughter also had a wedding.

But three years later, she gathered her strength for the second time and then I already supported her. Money was scarce and going to work in another country seemed like a logical move. Everything went well and soon we were renting a small apartment for two, barely speaking the local language. In this regard, I hoped that communicating with native speakers would help me better than buying a pocket dictionary. Overall, yes. That's what it was. But I would advise others to learn at least basics. It won't hurt.

I didn’t know anything about the Italians. I came into a family where my job was to take care of an elderly man. He lived with children in a large private house. They lived in one wing and Stefano in the other. Nice man. Although at an age, but absolutely in his mind. He taught me Italian and told me about his youth. I even read poems from memory. His children, although they took care of him, were more often occupied with their own concerns, so after only two years we became real friends.



And then the daughter announced that she wants to get married soon. So, despite all the protests of my family, I had to fly home for a while. Stefano even wanted to fly with me, so he didn't want to wait a week to break up. I, of course, then refused and flew away alone. We had a great celebration of our daughter’s wedding and then I came back without any problems.

And when I arrived in Italy, I had one very important news: after consulting with the children, Stefano decided to propose to me. Marriage, but, as it is called, fictitious. He's a wonderful man. But, of course, I could not feel any feelings other than friendly ones for a person far over 70. But it would give me a lot of privileges, citizenship and financial independence. That day, I just looked at Stefano with round eyes and gave a negative answer. I learned a lot more about the Italians.



But time passed and I, having thought carefully, made certain conclusions for myself. And why not, if I lose nothing, even more so, as the wife of my Italian friend, I will cease to be a nurse myself. There will be another person for this case. But that won't stop us from continuing to communicate and having a really nice time. Besides, his family likes me, too. Of course, I did not become a member of their family. But I didn’t feel any negative from them or Stefano during all this time. So it turned out that I got married for the second time.

However, my children did not understand this very well. Despite all my arguments, they didn't even want to hear about my wedding. Although, both are adults, you must understand the situation soberly. Our conversation boiled down to the fact that we shared the news, but as soon as it came to my new, albeit fictitious, husband, the conversation went completely wrong. Every time. They do not want to talk about Italians.



Now my son wants to get married, which I am very happy about. But a new problem has emerged. Of course, I will have to fly to his wedding, meet my daughter-in-law, be with my family. But Stefano doesn't want to let me go alone. He says he would love to meet my children and see the country. And I wouldn't mind. But my children are absolutely against such ideas. And the son says that even the hands of his “father” will not give.

It must be funny from the outside. But for me, this is a very disturbing question. What to do in such a situation, if time is slowly passing, and in our position nothing has moved a millimeter? Some fucking punishment, honestly!