The rocky road

Published: March 8, 2021 / Updated: March 8, 2021 Vilma Life in the USA: The Bad, Life in the USA: The Good

Let’s be honest here. I’m not the best driver in the world. I’m not the worst, either. Hilton Head Island that fall had the bumpiest roads for me.

The plantations on the island are beautiful and with lots of recreational areas. The houses are huge, but so is the space between them. The mail boxes, however, are dotted along the streets right on the road for an easy mail delivery.

It all started with me driving my precious Jimmy (GMC) one day and knocking one of those mailboxes down. I had no excuse! There was no squirrel on the road and I was not being distracted by my cell phone (we are talking years before that became a norm). I did knock it down. And I didn’t even stop! I kept driving, doing a ‘hit and run’ number, trying to escape the neighborhood which was very close to home. I got scared, of course, although there was no reason to be. It’s not like I had hit a person! I kept thinking about it the whole day and on the home, as I slowly passed by the house, I saw that he mail box was up, like nothing had happened.

By that time I was a bag of mixed emotions and couldn’t hold it inside anymore. I told my future mother in law about it and she talked to the neighbors. Bless them, they were easy going and very understanding.

The Lexus driver was not.

The day before the wedding the Chef took my Jimmy and I had some errands to run. We are talking about ONE day before MY wedding, so you can imagine… The Corvette, of course, was out of limits for mere mortals like myself. I had no other choice but to drive the massive Dodge Ram pick up. Don’t get me wrong, I love how much space a truck like that gives me when I’m a passenger. It’s a different story when I’m the driver. I remember feeling like I was in the ocean, the truck was MASSIVE!

I managed to drive to the mall without knocking any mailboxes down. I managed to park it. I also managed to scratch a Lexus while doing it. You can imagine my nerves, can’t you? Come on, I was getting married the next day! I didn’t need this. I kept panicking and thinking: ‘This is not good! This is not freaking good!’

Gratefully, the same tiny girl who felt lost in the ocean behind the Ram’s wheel had a big mouth, a sweet smile and a heart warming story to tell the driver, who accepted my money and let me go… Breath in, breath out.

Do they say the rocky road leads you to hell or to heaven?

Life in NYC: the bad

Published: February 26, 2021 / Updated: March 1, 2021 Vilma Life in the USA: The Bad

You know how everything in this life is temporary? Well, that sucks. If ‘forever’ doesn’t exist, why does the word?

Like I said, I’m not a huge movie fan. I enjoy watching them, but these days I can hardly find time to breath. So when I watch a movie and can’t stop thinking about it, I wanna recommend it to y’all. Sylvie’s love. That is the kind of love story I want to experience. Of course, life is unexpected and hardships are part of it, but at the end everything falls in its place: after the good and the bad, after the years of separation they find their happy ending. And I want mine.

NYC was definitely a place of happy beginnings.

It was the best place to do my wedding shopping, too. The dress had to be simple and sand color. Not white, not off white, not ivory. Sand. And I found just the right one in Soho. The shoes had to match the dress, and I found the perfect pair on the 5th Avenue. The rings had to be truly special, and The Diamond District was where we got them.

The chef was working long hours, of course, but the city kept me excited and the planning of our wedding kept me busy. It took me weeks to choose our invitations. We were planning to go back South to get married, so they had to reflect my love for the ocean. They had to be not too childish nor too business like. The color was also important. The end result was very ‘me’.

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The Chef
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Details like that kept me occupied. In my eyes, I was the best wedding planner.

Alas, after the highs, came the lows. Our new apartment witnessed so many screaming matches I was too embarrassed to look our neighbor in the eye. Our fights would get so bad I’d run away from home and wander the streets late at night with tears on my face.

In the middle of one fight the chef lit up all the wedding invitations on fire. Can you believe that?.. I ordered a new batch. The wedding ring that I kept in its box and admired every other day disappeared. I found out it was pawned and got it back. The chef got fired from his restaurant and our life in the city was due to end.

We were going back to HHI and I was pleased. The wedding on the beach was the wedding of my dreams and I found having to take more than one subway to reach the closest beach on Coney Island a real drag.

And so a year later we set off back South to get married. ‘But how about the fights? How about destruction and abuse?’ – you ask. Well, I told you, I was a master of closing my eyes and not seeing what I didn’t want to see. I remained the believer in the happy beginnings and happy endings.

Signs of trouble

Published: February 9, 2021 / Updated: February 13, 2021 Vilma Life in the USA: The Bad, Life in the USA: The Good

To be honest with you, all I want today is a day off. One day full of nothing but rest. Sure, a couple of massages would be great, a total makeover is recommended, some TLC is definitely needed. But as long as I don’t have to cook or clean, for a day, I’ll be happy.

Back then, at the age of 22, I was full of energy and my whole life was ahead of me. I arrived to Savannah, GA for the first time 17 years ago, and I remember to this day what the chef was wearing. Grey pants and grey shirt. Is it just me or it just sounds a bit too grey?! Today I am all into bold and bright colors, but back then it didn’t matter to me. I was only seeing the man underneath those clothes. My man.

The chef was living in Hilton Head Island, SC. I instantly fell in love with the place. The warm air, the green palm trees, the vast beaches…

As much as I enjoyed doing my own thing during the day and waiting for the chef to come home after work at night, I needed a job. If you are in a restaurant business you work long hours. I landed myself an easy job (http://www.redroof.com/) and started living the dream.

I’d often go to have dinner at the restaurant where my man worked (https://frankiebones.com/). We’d plan day trips on our days off and would generally fool around and have fun. I got to meet his family, too: his mother (a proud owner of a Corvette with a never ending supply of make up), mother’s boyfriend (younger than the chef and very much into motorcycles) and grandma (sweet old lady who used to have her restaurant business back in Michigan with her late husband). There were 2 brothers, one lived on the island and the other one out of state.

It all sounds like a dream, right? I was living with a hard working man who knew how to cook and always held my hand. A man who always answered: ‘Yeah, baby?’, whenever I called him: ‘Honey!’


However, signs of trouble started to pop up like flowers after the spring rain… There were rumors of sexual harassment back in Petoskey… There were whispers of drug use… There was money missing… There were trips in the middle of the night… Were these the signs of troublesome times to come? Yes. Was I ignoring them? Yes. To this day I am an expert of not seeing what I don’t really want to see.

A few months later we moved into his mom’s house. It made sense not to spend money on rent and help out with grandma, who was getting weaker by day. The house had 4 bedrooms and a pool inside! There sure was enough space for us all.

Just like that, I was living my life, having good times and successfully ignoring occasional bad times. Until one day I woke up with the diamond ring on my finger.