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Cinco de Mayo is a big deal in his family, so it only made sense that we join for the celebration, especially since his abuelos flew in for the weekend as well. The idea of meeting his entire extended family in one go isn’t helping my nerves, though.

“¡Hijo mío!” My son! A warm voice cries as Marshall helps lift me down out of his massive truck. “¡Él está aquí! Finalmente.” He’s here! Finally.

“Hola mamá.” Hi mom. Marshall says with a smile as he turns to embrace the woman charging toward him. “Mamá. This is Elsie.”

He turns to me with his mom wrapped under his arm as though to hold her back and keep her from jumping me.

“Preciosa niña. Ella es bonita. Ella me dará unos nietos bonitos.” Precious girl. She’s pretty. She’ll give me pretty grandbabies. The woman rambles off.

“Ella habla español, mamá.” She speaks Spanish, Mom. Marshall chuckles, and the woman’s eyes widen before her expression goes bland.

“I’d say it in English, too, mija.” Darling. The woman says with a smile. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Law. It’s really nice to meet you.” I smile, holding out my hand in greeting.

“Oh! No need for handshakes here, mija. Hugs are for family.” She says, shaking off Marshall’s hold and coming over to embrace me tightly. “And you can call me Mamá if you like.”

Warmth spreads through my chest at the casual acceptance of me into her family unit, an acceptance I wasn’t anticipating considering my relationship with her son.

“Inside! Inside! I have food in the works, and I don’t want your younger cousins to get their grubby hands into my pork filling. It will be all gone before I even get a chance to fill the tamales.” She rushes out, ushering us into the house.

The inside of the ranch-style home is gorgeously decorated in bright colors and art. Every piece that hangs on the walls or lives on a shelf has an air of sentimentality, which has always been severely lacking in my own home.

“You have a beautiful house,” I say as Marshall’s mother ushers me through the house and into the kitchen.

“Thank you!” She says cheerfully with a small smile and a shrug. “It’s home.”

The kitchen she leads me into smells incredible of spices and sauces that make my mouth water. Every surface is covered in pots and pans filled with dishes and ingredients that smell like heaven and I groan at the smell.

“A woman with a stomach. I love her.” Mamá smiles. “Now, Marshall. Go say hi to your sisters and cousins. Elsie can stay in here with me and say hello when people come in for snacks. Now shoo!”

Marshall gives me a nervous glance before bending down to give his mom, who’s only a few inches taller than me, a kiss on the cheek and retreating from the kitchen.

“Now. I have you for about an hour until you’re going to want to lay down, aren’t you?” She asks, making my eyebrows rise. “How far along are you?”

“How’d you?” I start before she laughs cheerfully.

“You’re already cupping your belly, mija.” She gives me a wink. “A good sign of a protective mother-to-be.”

“I didn’t realize,” I say softly. “I thought I was hiding it better.”

“Why?” She asks, her expression one of shock. “Babies are a beautiful thing. Nothing to hide at all, mija.”

“We just haven’t told a lot of people. Not much reason to. It’s a little weird to have people guess.” I shrug.

“Well, you’re going to have a lot of excited guesses today.” She says with a smile. “Now. Let’s get you an apron, and you can tell me about yourself while we wait for people to stop in.”

Marshall’s mom is a comforting presence. I spend the next hour telling her my story as various family members come in and out of the kitchen to say hello and grab food and drinks. The whole time, there’s laughter and joy in the air, which I’ve never experienced before at a family gathering.

My family events were always businesslike, formal lunches or dinners. They were gatherings for the purpose of checking off a box on a list of requirements rather than an opportunity to spend time with people you love.

Love.

That’s the feeling that’s been floating in the air since I arrived. Every fiber in my being takes in the feeling of comfort and safety that this home and these people provide.

Marshall pops in to check on us several times throughout the hour, but between being plied with delicious traditional snacks and the childhood stories of him I’m getting out of his mom, I couldn’t be more content.

“Marshall has been asking for recipes.” His mother says at one point. “Is he cooking for you?”

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