About Me

My photo
Hello everybody! Welcome to my blog! I hope you like it!

Saturday, September 26, 2020

ANOTHER LIFE STORY - AUTOBIOGRAPHY (2)

 CHAPTER 1. AT THE BEGINNING THERE WAS LOVE


When you have the fortune of being born in a nice family, you are given an extra chance to be happy. And a fine, functional family is hard to come by these days, as most of us have succumbed to the demon of personal happiness, at the expense of others, sometimes people really dear to us. We fall out of love, we leave the relationship or worse, the marriage or the family, without trying to work it out. 

The problem is that we enter relationships with the wrong state of mind - we look for someone to complete us, to fix us, to give us happiness, instead of looking for someone who can grow and develop alongside us and accompany us in our life's journey, no matter how intricate. Happy relationships with highly compatible people are a real treasure - and hard to come by. I don't honestly know if they exist, really. Whenever I find out about an engagement these days, I am really happy and a little bit envious, as I know how difficult is to grow love. And love needs to be cherished, or it will fly away like an escaped butterfly. 

But I will not bother you with deep, dark reflections on philosophical issues - we will talk about them when the time is right. For now, let's go back to the beginnings. My parents were both born in different villages, pretty far from one another. So the possibility of them meeting was scarce. My father, however, was and still is, the classical definition of a handsome man. Dark hair and deep eyebrows, blue eyes, beautiful plump lips and a fair skin, he was, for the majority of my childhood, my ideal man. The prince I would read up in the stories I so much liked was standing right next to me, daily (at some point, I even developed a short-lived envy on my mother for having such luck in love). 

 However, I have to admit that rather than luck, it was destiny of them meeting. And it was love at first sight for my father. My mother was a beauty as well - rich, long, dark hair, fair skin, beautiful, brown eyes and arched, rich eyebrows, turned her into a pretty desirable lady. Not to mention she was smart as well. A beautiful pair, causing the envy of  everyone around them. They met in May; 6 months later, in October, they were married. My mother's family opposed at first (she was 16 at the time), but gave in when they saw how in love they were and how determined my father was to make her happy. 

They moved to my father's family, but my mother, a young wife, had difficulties adapting to the new life, she was just a kid, after all, missing her parents. Add to that the fact that the communist regime grew also more difficult, so they had to flee back to my mother's mountain village, at her parents'  house, where the regime could not bare its fangs as deeply. 

Despite them trying their best, my mother had difficulties in getting pregnant, so I came into this world only two years later, after lots of tears and prayers. I heard it was the prayer at Saint Rita of Cascia that made the miracle happen. That, and the faith of my parents. 

The risks were also increased, as it was a twin pregnancy, and as it turns out, only I survived, the other baby being lost at 5 weeks. I was a little bit shocked when I first heard the story from my mother, but then I realized why I felt so alone in the first part of my life. I have created since then lots of "what ifs", but I will never know that reality of me playing with my twin brother or sister. But I would like to think that I am a fighter and I have been since the moment I came into this world. I have always valued independence and freedom more than anything, so I grew up quite a savage and a stubborn gal. 

The first two years of my life were spent with my mother's family. I don't know if I have a first memory that I recall. I have been told I was a pretty bad baby, as I used to cry day and night, bringing both my parents to exhaustion. I liked being touched a lot as a baby, in fact, I would only stay quiet if I was in my mother's arms. I also remember being put in a sleeping bag for babies, as I would often throw off my blanket off my body in my sleep; and it was uncomfortable and I hated that feeling, it suffocated me. I remember that my grandparents used to have pigs so kind, they would let me sit on them. So I would consider them horses and try to ride them, to no avail. I also had a dog, which I kept quite a distance of, but developed a sort of fondness for over the years. I cried when I found out it passed away later. The cats, I was no special friend with them at first. Only later in life did we find similarities and began to bond. 

Being in a mountain village was pretty lonely for a kid. I did not have any friends to play with, so I would spend the time inventing plays by myself, or stressing out my mother or my grand grandmother. 

I was a privileged child - for the first 8 years of my life I had the honor of knowing my grand grandmother, and she was smitten with me! I was her first grand grandchild and I was feisty and she loved it! She used to visit us as often as she could, even after we moved. I was pampered like a princess with lovely dresses she made herself for me, but also the ones she bought ready made. And she always used to bring us sweets whenever she visited! My favorite was a pink-yellow gingerbread rosary, which she used to buy whenever she visited churches on their Feast event day. Today, whenever I see this gingerbread on display at some events, I buy some in memory of my grand grand mother. May God rest her in peace and bless her for giving me such an amazing childhood! 

She spent time with me and played with me, she always told me how proud she is of me and to always be a fine woman! She hugged me often and gave me the love and attention I so much craved from a grandmother's figure.  She spoke my love language so well, I am happy I had the chance of meeting her! Meeting her was one of life's gifts to me; and spending part of my childhood in that mountain village, was another - I grew up to have pretty high standards regarding beautiful landscapes and quiet time around the house so, to this day, that place holds a special place in my heart - it's the place where the story of my life began to unfold. 


ANOTHER LIFE STORY - AUTOBIOGRAPHY (1)


INTRODUCTION


I don't know what prompted me to write this book. I wanted to, at some point, share the story of my life and I guess that now is perhaps that time. We live in a reality that has changed so much since I first opened my eyes into this world, that it would be a pity not to leave my memories of it behind. After all, all life stories are interesting and unique. Even more so the ones that allow you to take a peek into another's soul. 

So I want to let you in on my mind's secrets. To be scared or amazed of them, it is your choice, my dear reader. I would only try to be as honest as I can. After all, this is a trait that I admire dearly in any person I can connect with, be it friend or foe.

It's funny how life changes you in ways you would not expect. Years ago, I would have never imagined I would turn up the way I did. Love has taught me to be tolerant; life has taught my to loosen up my views on the world - perhaps I did it a little bit too much. So this is a story about life and love, my dear reader , but most of all, it is a story about another human soul that crossed, at some point in the history of time, this wonderful planet called Earth.

I always knew I wanted to write stories, ever since I could ever read. But I somehow never found the inspiration or the courage to do it. Since reading has become a scarce quality these days, writing does not give you quite the satisfaction it would have a hundred years ago, when you would have had honest hope to have your story read. Now, you have to compete with an unimaginable amount of other stories, audiobooks and videos far more interesting than the life of someone who has yet to accomplish something of importance. 

So if you decide to write, do it for yourself, rather than to be heard by others. Treat writing like therapy. Be you in it - authenticity is always sexy and charming, no matter what side of the story you are on - the writer, or the reader.