A Moment in Morocco

Last year, something surprising happened.

As December rolled around, before I began my 2026 board, I reflected on 2025… and started noticing that I had lived almost everything I had placed in front of myself. Not perfectly. Not in a straight line. But enough that it stopped me in my tracks. It made me believe — even more deeply — that if you have a desire, a pull, a curiosity… it’s there for a reason. And sometimes, simply keeping it in view changes everything. Two of the images on my board last year were simple. A camel and a hot air balloon.

Two experiences I wanted to have — to help me face my fear of animals and heights. And the place I wanted to experience this…Morocco.

What I didn’t know then was that a few months later I would reconnect with someone who would become an important part of my life — my trainer, my mood healer, my friend, Ahmed… who is originally from Morocco.

His warmth, his positive mindset, his way of being — “we are blessed” — he attributes to his mother.

So traveling to a place where he was born and raised gave me a sense of comfort.

When my friend Jen said one afternoon in August at my cottage, “We need to book a trip,” I didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go to Morocco!”

It wasn’t on her vision board… but she said yes. Within minutes, laptops were open, wine was poured, and we were booked. We don’t mess around when it comes to travel.

It caught me off guard. Such a small question… but not one I’m used to hearing.

I’m often the one holding everything together — managing, anticipating, doing.

So I paused. Checked in with myself. And answered honestly: “Yes… I am.” And for once, it was true.

The days unfolded with a kind of magic you can’t plan. We wandered through cities we didn’t research. Followed directions we barely understood. Car windows down, music playing, with someone we had just met. And somehow… I felt safe. More relaxed than I normally do in unfamiliar places.

But the moment that stayed with me — the one I keep coming back to — wasn’t the desert, or the markets, or even the camel ride… though that was spectacular.

It was something much quieter. Partway through the trip, Anwar asked if we would like to meet his mother. Without hesitation, I said yes. To me, that invitation felt like the highest form of respect. Jen… slightly more cautious in the back seat… trusted it too.

We drove off the paved roads. Into something more rugged. More real.

When we arrived, his mother was waiting for us at the door. And the moment she saw him… She lit up. Completely. Her face softened, her eyes brightened — her whole body responded in a way I knew instantly. Because I’ve felt it. Every time my kids walk through the door. And in that moment, sitting there in the vehicle, I found myself thinking of them — how that feeling never leaves you, no matter how old they are. I also saw the same look of pride in my own mom and mother in law’s eyes when her kids and grandkids are home. No matter how much time has passed. That feeling… it doesn’t change.

At one point, when Anwar stepped away, I tried to connect. I mimed driving and said, “Anwar is a very good driver,” with a thumbs up. His mother beamed with pride. Of course she did. What mother doesn’t light up when her child is seen, appreciated, acknowledged? Then, for a bit of humour, I pointed to my wedding ring and gave a playful thumbs down. “My husband… not so much.” She laughed. And just like that… we understood each other.

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In that room, nothing else mattered.

Not where we lived.

Not what we had.

Not what we believed.

Just that we were women who love deeply.

Mothers, yes,

But also the women who show up in so many other ways.

The aunties. The friends. The ones who guide, support, and hold space.

The women who mother beyond their own homes – who build relationships with other people’s children, who show up, who care, who help shape the lives around them.

Women who look out for one another.

Who step in when needed.

Who carry more than we often acknowledge.

Nurturers.

Healers,

Leaders.

Strategists.

Women who lead with love.

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She hugged and kissed us as we left. Visits with our grown children are never long enough — always too few and far between.

This experience shifted something in me. Because it reminded me…

That no matter where you are in the world — no matter how different life looks on the surface — there is a thread that connects us. A quiet, unspoken understanding.

Motherhood is not about perfection. It’s not about getting everything right. It’s about presence. About love. About the moments — big and small — where we show up fully. It’s about trusting that your children will grow into who they are meant to be… and that your love has helped shape that. There is no one way to mother – and no single definition of what that looks like.

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This Mother’s Day, I’m not thinking about gifts or expectations. I’m thinking about that look. That feeling. The one that needs no translation. The one that says: You’re here. You’re okay. And that’s enough.

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And maybe… that’s something we can offer ourselves too.

Like my friend Ahmed says — “We are blessed.”

Sleeping in beautifully designed Riads. Sipping tea while surrounded by carpets — each one telling a story. I experienced more than I expected. And yes… my suitcase was very hard to close. Anwar our driver messaged me after we left for the airport and said that Jen and I were like watching a movie. I think he enjoyed his time too. And I know this for sure — I’ll be back.

Thank you, Morocco.

And Happy Mother’s Day.