Where the boys at?

Published: December 16, 2022 / Updated: December 16, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘A man has two women. One he lies to, the other one he tells the truth. Which one does he love?’

‘Of course he loves the one he lies to’, I think to myself. He lies to her because he wants to protect he. So it means he loves her. Right?

Wrong. As soon as the previous thoughts come to my mind, they leave an instant later. The man loves nobody but himself.

And once again I ask myself. Where are those men that need only one woman? Where are those caring and committed men, who believe in monogamy, in love and respect?

Well, it seems they are just around the corner.

You do remember a ‘he’ that appeared in my life back in the summer, right? He was the type of a man who believed in monogamy and wanted a commitment. He told me that from the start. I turned him down. Partially because there was no chemistry between us. And without the sparks, uff, the going gets tough.

But he was offering me what I wanted – love and commitment. So why say ‘no’?

I’m sorry, but being told ‘I love you’ after a handful of dates does not sit well with me. Nor do talks about getting married when I hardly know him.

I do remember my sister telling me, some years ago, that the older you get, the faster you reach ‘in a relationship’ status. But what happened to getting to know each other well before saying ‘I do’? Who wants to get married and realize a few weeks later that you made a mistake? Been there, done that.

Back in high school I was attending ethics lessons. I remember our teacher telling us one day that one of the best ways to get to know a person is to go on a trip together. You’ll see who gets to eat the last cookie – those were her exact words.

So no, meeting up a couple of weekends and spending time in the safety of our own homes does not equal a challenge. That does not mean you really know the person.

As you know, that guy disappeared.

A new one appeared.

But the story is quite similar. He told me ‘I love you’ so early in our relationship that he put me off. How can this be? Why do men keep saying that after a couple of dates?

And so the relationship goes on. But it’s a weird one, at least in my opinion.

And if I think it’s weird, it ain’t right.

So let me rephrase myself – where are all those men that are ready to commit, that are happy being monogamous, but wish to get to know the person they are with before saying ‘I love you’?

I’ve got you, baby

Published: December 4, 2022 / Updated: December 4, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

She has finally learned to say it right. Almost:

‘I love you… infinity… back… infinite times’.

I had been telling her this since the day she was born: ‘I love you to infinity and back infinite times’. It’s so rewarding to hear her say it back.

My daughter is a talker. She does not stop. And if you try to explain something, ‘but why’ will never end. At night, thankfully, she does not talk so much, but the still talks. These days, in the middle of the night, she wakes me up with one of the two: either ‘Mama, I love you’, which melts my heart in the darkest and coldest of nights, or ‘Mama, cover me up’, which makes me wanna wish she was a grown up and could cover herself up.

She is my best friend. I love her to bits.

Of course, it’s not easy at times and she puts me straight with her ‘Mama, but I’m only a little girl’, when I get carried away.

Sometimes, however, she does act like an adult, when I’m the one who cries.

Like the other night.

I was pretending to be a teacher, meeting a new student for the first time. We do this kind of role playing a lot. When I asked the girl about her mama, she told me her mama went to work on work days, and did not work on weekends.

When I asked her about her daddy, she told me he had died. She said she didn’t remember much of her daddy, only that he had pretty hair.

And so I invited her to look at some videos with daddy, so she could see him and hear his voice. I haven’t seen his videos in a while myself so I was eager to re-visit the past.

And you know what? I found two videos I had only seen once before, both made over 4 years ago. And they were beautiful. Just Beno and I (with the baby in the belly).

Seeing the videos made me emotional and I started to cry. My daughter instantly took me in her arms and started wiping my tears.

‘Don’t cry, mama, I am here with you’, – she kept repeating.

How extremely grateful I am to have her in my life. How enormously lucky.

And even though I try to be as honest as I can with her about many things in life, including death, sometimes it all becomes just too surreal.

Many a time, before falling asleep, my girl says: ‘Good night. Sweet dreams. Don’t die’. I got used to the last bit by now and I assure her that I won’t.

One time, she said that and went on: ‘Let’s check in the morning if none of us died, if we can move. And if we can’t, we just stay together. Just you and I’. And that’s when I cried, again.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all doom and gloom in our neighborhood. We have so much fun together. You can often find me dancing and singing with my daughter on the trolley, at the bus stop, in the store. You can find us playing with the balloon and laughing out loud when it hits the person sitting in front of us on the bus.

We get excited about the little things.

Especially now, with Christmas around the corner, the mood in our house is festive.

We don’t have fancy decorations, we don’t have a huge Christmas tree. What we got is each other.

Friend zone

Published: October 14, 2022 / Updated: October 14, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘Have you got any friends?’

That came from a new acquaintance about a week ago. I found the question a bit strange. Who doesn’t have friends? Of course I do!

But maybe there are people among us who are alone – be it by their own choice or not. Besides, how many true friends have I actually got?

I am lucky to say that I have friends all over the world: from the Americas to Europe to Asia and Australia.

How about Africa? Not exactly, not yet. Stay tuned.

The best kind of friends – the ones you don’t have to talk to every day, but you always feel the connection and pick up where you left off.

My circle of friends is not stagnant, it keeps changing. When I needed them most, there were only certain friends that I wanted to turn to. But others, for whatever reason, I wanted to stay away from.

At first that surprised me. We were good friends, there were no issues between us. But I felt like running as far as possible from them.

Then somebody told me: ‘You have to lose some friends to make space for new ones’.

That’s true.

Good friends come through in the most unexpected ways.

I got a friend living in Cambodia. He writes poems. When I needed it, this one poem of his made me cry day and night, thus slowly making the darkness around me lighter:

THINGS ARE LOOKING UP

Beneath a simple pine box cover,

Forever missing my lover,

I lay watching grassroots grow,

Resting peacefully six feet below.

It is another wet and rainy day;

Standing by my grave,

You are the one my heart craves,

With folded hands I begin to pray.

It is difficult for you to maintain,

Tears which you cannot contain;

This is beyond my control,

Only your soul can truly console,

Tears fall in between rain drops,

Teardrops and flower tops,

Tears here, there and everywhere,

Yet I can only helplessly stare.

I cannot even dry your salty tears

Or share your everyday fears,

I cannot put my arms around you,

Or lay this body beside you.

Yes, dear, I hear you,  I miss you too,

It is cold and lonely without you,

But you are not so far away,

You have come to see me today.

– Utopia Urnsberg

I find this poem utterly beautiful and feel like my friend wrote it just for me. He did it before it happened and he was miles away, yet it found me and stuck with me.

Which brings us to losing friends.

Have you ever been put in the friend zone by the one you loved? Have you ever been said that ‘Baby, let’s just be friends’ line? It is the most disappointing thing ever when you are at the receiving end.

However, just recently I was the one delivering those words. It sucked. The guy vanished the next day.

I can’t dwell on it, though, – nothing lasts forever. I lost a friend, but I gained back my peace of mind. And that stranger around the corner may just be my next best friend, waiting to happen.

Between life and death lies love

Published: September 24, 2022 / Updated: September 24, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I don’t think I have ever before thought that I had been at the right place at the right time at the exact moment of being there.

But two weeks ago I was fully aware of it. I was the right person to be exactly where I was. At that exact moment in time.

It was the last Sunday of the summer. We were on the way to the park near our home. There was a playground there (my daughter loved it) and there were a couple of ponds with ducks there (I loved those). We had bread handy for the ducks and were enjoying the beautiful morning walk.

As we were approaching one of the benches, we saw a young woman walking towards us. However, the second I laid my eyes on her, I realised she was crying. It wasn’t just a few tears running down her cheeks. She was weeping, howling and whimpering all at once. She was holding on to her chest and holding on to her belly. And she did not stop. She almost collapsed on the steps near the bench, just as we were approaching it.

‘I can’t just watch her and do nothing’, – I thought to myself.

I don’t remember what I asked her. I hope it wasn’t something ridiculous, like ‘Are you ok?’, when she obviously wasn’t. But I did say something to her. And she replied with the remark: ‘Take care of your families and of your children’.

Something was terribly wrong.

So I just took her in my arms and let her weep.

‘My husband killed himself last night’ – she said after a while. She nearly collapsed again. ‘And I have a two year old son’.

Life is so cruel sometimes. But almost 3.5 years later I felt strong and confident enough to share my story, trying to comfort her and calm her down. I held her close for as long as she let me, and I kept caressing her long hair and patting her back, repeating: ‘It’s ok, I know’.

I did know. I had been there. It took a lot of time for me to pull myself back together, it will take her a lot of time as well.

I motioned my head to my daughter: ‘Look, here she is, after 3.5 years.’ The woman looked at my girl. ‘You will be there for your son and you will be strong for him’.

I’d like to think I helped her some. And I’d like to know how she is today. But there, by the pond, we talked about moments, fights, and not getting a goodbye.

I think of Beno so often. I revisit the places, the conversations, the feelings. Everything that I felt immediately after his loss has mellowed, moved to the background.

I’m left with the immense feeling of overflowing love towards the little girl we created. The one who is my life and my biggest love.

That crazy crazy world

Published: September 9, 2022 / Updated: September 9, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘We are in prison’.

No kidding. I never thought I’d see a message like that from my sister. My sister! Who is a well behaved, intelligent lady, way less attracted to risky activities than I am.

‘You are?’, – I texted back incredulously. I wondered what on earth could a family of 5 do, to end up in prison. I did not come up with one feasible explanation.

‘Yes, the tour is about to start’, – she came back to me minutes (longest, full of tension) later.

Phew! On one hand, I was so incredibly relieved. On the other hand, just wondering, what COULD a family of 5 do to get locked up?

As you see, that was quite the start of the week.

‘She was 3, and she was pregnant’.

That was Karla, my seriously good friend, currently touring Europe with her son, a.k.a. Mia’s Mexican boyfriend.

‘I had the weirdest dream. Your daughter was pregnant’, – she went on, as if I had not heard her the first time.

Now that unsettled me. I found it…. creepy, ew, to say the least! I know we can’t control what we dream about, but, Karla, can we at least try, eh?

At the end, I did not want to hear more, and, luckily, my friend did not elaborate too much.

Truly bizarre.

‘I want to live in a tree’.

That, of course, was from the lips of my little angel.

Say what now?

‘Do you want to live with me? In a tree?’, – she persisted.

Then, naturally, I had to ask: ‘Which tree?’

‘That one!’ – she pointed to the one from the balcony. ‘Or that one’, – she pointed to another one and looked at me with the biggest smile. She obviously had it all figured out.

‘Maybe’, – that was me being diplomatic.

‘Mommy, why do you have to go to work every day?’ – my daughter suddenly changed her tone, became all serious.

‘Well, my love’, – I started explaining, – ‘I need to work so we can buy food and pay rent for this beautiful place’.

‘But if we lived in a tree, we wouldn’t need money to pay rent’, – she delivered her closing statement.

And she was so right.

Published: August 20, 2022 / Updated: August 20, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

Mine

‘You are not still restless in love, are you?’ – he asks me after reading my blog.

Yes, there is a ‘he’ in my life. And yes, I still am.

Although it’s been a few good months so far, since I came back, not wanting to run away, just being happy… being here. 

Then he whispers something, while gently kissing my forehead.

‘What was that?’, – I am not sure I heard it right. I thought he said the words that every girl wishes to hear. But I have to double check. It hasn’t been long enough, at least not long enough for me.

Instead of feeling like a calm sea, the way I did before he showed up, I feel gentle waves, now that he’s in my life. Sooner or later they will either turn into bigger waves, bigger still, maybe even a storm. Or they will simply disappear.

Nothing lasts forever.

The funny thing is, I don’t believe in ‘forever’ anymore.

All the times in the past when I’d get involved with a guy, I’d want us to be together forever, no other way around it.

Now, I just want us to be together, for as long as it lasts.

My daughter asks me why people die. I tell her they do because that’s how it is in this life. I do tell her too, that nothing lasts forever.

‘People are born and then they die. That’s the circle of life’, – I explain. ‘Everything sooner or later comes to an end’.

Life has showed me that there is no ‘forever’, and the fairy tale endings should be left at ‘they lived happily’, without the ‘ever after’.

She may not understand it yet, but she repeats it back to me.

‘One day you will die, too?’ – she’s curious.

‘Yes, I will’.

‘One day I will die, too?’ – she’s getting it now.

‘Yes, you will, but not for a very very long time. We’ll be together for many many years’.

‘When we celebrate death, we celebrate life’.

Sometimes at night, when I‘m stroking her hair while putting her to sleep, my girl in return caressess my  hair. ‘Sleep, mommy, sleep’, – she shushes me.

‘This is what my extraordinary life is all about, and she is all mine’, – I think to myself at moments like that. ‘I would not exchange this to any other kind of life’.

And even though in many ways I could never be like Carrie Bradshaw, I have a passion for writing just like her.

‘Maybe one day I’ll write about you in my blog’, – I tell him playfully.

‘But I don’t want to die’, – he objects. ‘The men you write about die’, – he looks a little bit worried.

‘They do’, – I silently agree. That is my story before you.

 

 

 

 


 

Not afraid

Published: June 18, 2022 / Updated: June 18, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘You are the best mama’, – my daughter  just  whispered in my ear. And even though I know that, many times us, mothers, are so hard on ourselves, often too hard. Hearing her say that simply melted my heart.

A few days ago my mom was less forgiving.

‘You don’t look like a 41 year old. But you do dress like a teenager’. Still, I took that as a good thing.

I turned 41 a week ago, and I’m not afraid to say my age out loud anymore. It does seem scary, seeing the number. But you know what? My daughter keeps me young and lighthearted (when she doesn’t worry me to death).

I am also not afraid to admit that I am as naive today as I was 20 years ago – when it comes to men. The only difference is that now I understand that I’m naive. Still, it allows me to take things easy and have some fun along the way.

Take London boy, for example.

‘ I wonder what your blog will say about me if we ever get to meet’, he wondered one day. Trust me, boy, I’ll dedicate the entire chapter to you.

Every once in a while he says he’ll visit me. Every once in a while I believe him. He gets me excited and then he backs off. It’s a typical game that men like to play. But I got used to it and I enjoy it and I no longer expect him to keep his word.

‘Two girlfriends down and you are still talking to me’, he wrote. Surprisingly so.

I am also extremely busy, so I don’t have time to even think about men, let alone do anything about it. The past two months have been crazy. Not only I left Mexico and moved back to Europe, but I found a gorgeous place for us to live amidst real estate crisis, and landed an awesome job. I did so much in so little time, I’m surprised I’m still alive. It would not have happened if not for my perseverance, a big chunk of good luck and continuous support from my family and friends, especially my mom.

Of course, it all doesn’t just stop here. But I am so excited to have reached the point where I currently am.

I got asked by my new colleagues recently whether I had a man, a child…

‘Yes’ to a child, the most beautiful almost four year old, and ‘no’ to a man’, I replied.

And there was not even one grain of sadness as I said it. It was a beautiful summer day and the sun was shining bright in the blue sky. My girl was safe and happy, and the absence of a man in my life seemed to be just an irrelevant detail.

Which made me wonder – have I finally found my inner peace?

The shades of grey

Published: May 12, 2022 / Updated: May 22, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

As I write this, I see the grey sky. Which is perfect.

You know how some things in life are a grey area? I’d say grey is my least favorite color, dull and boring. I’d much rather choose white or black, or better yet, all the rainbow colors.

But some things are just too intricate to be labeled as one or the other.

I may not know much about it, but let’s look at the definition of ‘gender’ nowadays. It sure has changed from the time I was a little girl myself. Some of us just don’t belong, or belong to all, and can’t be labeled as ‘a man’ or ‘a woman’. Call it what you wish, but that’s a reality. By the time my daughter is old enough to talk about this (she may already be, actually, as she is very curious and we try to talk about everything openly) I hope to be able to explain things better to her, instead of just saying that it’s a little bit of a grey area these days.

It’s kinda the same when you have a thousand questions and the only person capable of giving you the answers is not here. You can make up the answers yourself. And you can make yourself believe those answers, be it good or bad, because there is nobody else to prove you otherwise.

Or simply don’t question it. Let it rest in peace. What I learned is that when you ask a question, you have to be ready for an answer, which may not necessarily be the answer you wanna hear. And if you are not ready, it’s best not to ask.

Which brings me to the following questions:

  • Do I really do myself bad if I refuse to believe something? If I bury it as deep inside as I can, because it hurts to think about it, do I do myself a favor?
  • How do I know what is the truth and what is the lie? We can only be sure of our own actions and our own words. What’s inside anybody else’s head, your guess is as good as mine. Only you know what’s in your head, why you said this or did that. And whatever comes out of your mouth is not always the truth. But who’s truth? Mine or yours?

I had always wondered why people believed in something/someone. And in the recent years I came to realize that we believe in something because it makes us feel better.

My life in PG with Beno was full of surprises. The biggest one happened one Sunday. As I had mentioned previously, the house of Beno was always full of people. Most of the time it was filled with the blaring sound of the R&B music. There was always loud talk and laughter, it rarely was a silent place.

On that particular Sunday one of local lads stopped by. The house was full of young men and somehow the talk turned to God. The man who came started reading the Bible. And then suddenly the house turned extremely quiet. The only noise was the voice reading. I was mesmerized. I had not seen all of the youngsters grow quiet so suddenly and so completely. They were paying full attention, they were listening to every word. They believed in God.

And I believe in whatever makes me feel better. Can you blame me?

My three or so months without Beno were not easy. I was missing him very much. At the same time I had a little girl growing inside of me and being surrounded by my family felt so very special.

Beno was back in Mexico. We kept in touch as much as we could (not enough for me, never enough).

In reality, our time apart is a grey area. It used to be black or white, depending on how I looked at it. But then one day it became the story of ‘he said, she said’, and the person who could tell the truth is not here. But who’s truth, mine or yours?

I painted this chapter a thousand shades of grey and I continue to believe in whatever keeps me at peace. As I write this, the sun is out and the sky is blue. Which is perfect.

Time

Published: May 4, 2022 / Updated: May 8, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘I love daddy’, – says my daughter.

‘I love daddy, too’, – I feel my eyes swelling up.

‘I love Spiderman, too’, – she adds.

My face instantly breaks into a smile. The ways of my daughter never seem to amaze me. Our time together is precious.

Call me a hypocrite.

For someone who has zero patience and can’t stand to wait, for anything, I sure am happy that time exists. Time heals. Time softens the sharp edges and helps us forget.

What happened in London four years ago does not seem as dramatic to me today as it did back then. Maybe because I had been through worse, and still, today, I am ok. Time does heal.

I had not been in a detention center before. I do not see myself having the need to be in one for anyone else but Beno. He was that kind of person – he’d find himself in the worst and the best situations, and he’d always manage to take it easy and smile.

I had gone to see him the next day. I was allowed to swap the heavy backpack with the rolling suitcase, which was much easier for me to handle. I had to go through so many security checks I stopped counting them. Beno was on his way to visit my family, yet he ended up in the stone cold building surrounded by barbed wire.

It felt like a movie. Never ever had I thought I’d be in a place like that. But there I was, amongst the other women, having come to see their men.

I broke down when Beno finally came in. I expected him to be equally crushed. Instead, he was close to smiling. How was that possible?

‘Baby, I just finished the game with the boys’, – he told me. I had seen him down, but this was not the occasion. It really annoyed me that he seemed to be ok.

He had a roof above his head, he had a bed and he had food, and he had plenty of time to work out. He told me that many men staying at the detention center had nowhere better to go, so they kept coming back there and play basketball all day long.

Seeing Beno did not cheer me up. I wanted to be as close to him as it was humanly possible, as I felt that ever since we were ripped apart, I could not manage to feel whole without him. Unfortunately, we had to sit on the opposite sides of a plastic table and we were not allowed to touch each other. Life during that hour did seem cruel.

I left in a worse mood then when I had got in.

In a couple of days they were sending Beno back to Mexico. What was I supposed to do?

Unprepared

Published: April 15, 2022 / Updated: April 24, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I’m sure by now you have all heard about the Oscars this year. The incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock reached even me (cheers, Kristina!), deep into the prep for my move back to Europe.

But no matter what you think of this moment and the behavior of the men above, you gotta admit – Will Smith was brilliant in King Richard.

‘If you fail to plan, you plan to fail’.

It’s not that we didn’t have a plan. Beno and I spent months getting ready for the trip to Europe. We had an appointment for his Shengen visa scheduled in London. We had his invitation letter written. All the papers were in order. We were so excited about the brighter future in Europe. Beno, having grown up in Belize and not been anywhere else besides Mexico, was especially looking forward to it.

But brighter future it wasn’t. The weeks that followed our flight to London were full of questions, frustration, tears, disappointment, chaos and sadness.

Beno did not need a visa to enter the UK at the time. Yet he was detained by the border security officers . Imagine us, happy as we could be, splitting up to form two security lines: me – for ‘Shengen area’, Beno – for ‘outside the Shengen area’. Imagine me almost reaching the officer, but quickly running to the other line as I sensed trouble. Imagine me being told they were taking Beno away for questioning, and I was free to continue my journey.

‘Welcome to Europe’, – announced the officer.

Say what?

Just like that, I was left on my own. I was told I’d be able to call a number in a while to get an update on the case. I believe I spent about 5 hours waiting. I have not felt this alone in my entire life. When I finally got to speak to somebody, I was asked an awful lot of questions about the purpose of Beno’s visit, his past employement, his future plans, his step by step itinerary. I admit, I was so shaken up that I forgot the entire plan. I mentioned bits and pieces, I kept telling them I was pregnant and Beno was the father of my baby, but the officers were not moved.

It got dark by the time I was told I could call a different number next morning for another update. At the rate this was going, I was not sure I wanted another update.

Dear god.

Now imagine me trying to figure out my way from the airport to my friend’s house. Imagine me dragging the heaviest backpack and some smaller bags with me to the subway. Imagine me swearing from the weight and wondering what this could possibly do to my baby. Imagine me telling some kids on the subway to please give me the seat as I was pregnant could no longer stand on my own two feet. Imagine me finally reaching the house of my friend and telling him the whole sorry story through the tears.

Imagine him saying: ‘Yes, Vilma, you should have come more prepared. They show cases like this on TV. You must have answers to all their questions’.

I didn’t have the answers.

I didn’t plan, and I failed.