The Life I Imagined: My Personal Renaissance in Florence, Italy
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About this ebook
With a couple of suitcases of clothes and personal items, I set out on my years adventure. I found a new freedom, new adventures every day, how real happiness feels, that love is always a possibility, and how the rest of my life might look. I learned to dream again, I learned to love again, and I learned where my place in the world was plus so much more. This is the story of my soul reawakening, my personal renaissance in Florence, Italy, and living the life that I imagined.
Karen L. Mills
Karen Mills was born in Laurel, MD in 1958 and raised in Nashville, Tn. She is the author of a travel blog called An American in Italy, www.anamericaninitaly.com. She has written travel articles for The Wall Street Journal, Go Euro, International Living, and other internet travel sites. She has two sons and currently lives in Florence, Italy with her husband and two cats. In a prior life, she was a corporate executive in the auto insurance industry. She lived most of her adult life in Alexandria, VA where she raised her sons and also spent time in Nashville, Tn, Memphis, TN, and Boston, MA. She enjoys reading, traveling, movies, music, art, good food and wine.
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The Life I Imagined - Karen L. Mills
THE
LIFE
I IMAGINED
My Personal Renaissance in Florence, Italy
Karen L. Mills
42045.pngAuthorHouse™
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640
©
2017 Karen L. Mills. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 03/04/2017
ISBN: 978-1-5246-7442-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5246-7441-0 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017903140
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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1 The End Of One Thing, The Start Of Something Else
Chapter 2 The Possibility Of Love
Chapter 3 The Flight To Florence
Chapter 4 Kate
Chapter 5 The Pitch
Chapter 6 My Arrival
Chapter 7 Tolling Of The Bells
Chapter 8 La Passeggiata
Chapter 9 The Date From Hell
Chapter 10 The Luggage Arrives
Chapter 11 The Estate Sale
Chapter 12 II David
Chapter 13 That Which I Should Have Done
Chapter 14 Permesso Di Soggiorno
Chapter 15 The Visa
Chapter 16 The First Date
Chapter 17 Girls Night Out
Chapter 18 Job Offer In Texas
Chapter 19 The Interview
Chapter 20 The Decision
Chapter 21 The Kiss
Chapter 22 The Blog
Chapter 23 The College Application
Chapter 24 First Day Of School
Chapter 25 Visit From My Boys
Chapter 26 Tommaso
Chapter 27 Kate’s Discovery
Chapter 28 Dinner With Rilla
Chapter 29 Mom And Carly Visit
Chapter 30 Telling My Parents The Plan
Chapter 31 Day Trip To Fiesole
Chapter 32 The Questura
Chapter 33 Wedding Crashers-Visit To The Winery
Chapter 34 Kate’s Diagnosis
Chapter 35 Tommaso
Chapter 36 Tommaso’s Mother
Chapter 37 Andrea Bocelli
Chapter 38 Camping With Rilla
Chapter 39 Phone Call
Chapter 40 Visit With Kate
Chapter 41 Finding Mimo
Chapter 42 Lauren Visits
Chapter 43 Marriage Proposal
Chapter 44 Winding Down
Chapter 45 Interview In Cleveland
Chapter 46 Visit With Kate
Chapter 47 Nick’s Show
Chapter 48 Conversation With Kate
Chapter 49 Venice With Mimo
Chapter 50 The Job Offer
Chapter 51 Leaving Florence
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.
Henry David Thoreau
For Connie
Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together.
Marilyn Monroe
CHAPTER 1
The End of One Thing, the Start of Something Else
YOU MEAN YOU’RE HAVING an affair?
Those are your words, not mine. I said I’m emotionally attached.
He folded his hands, opened them and rubbed his thighs over faded jeans. The cat that had settled on his lap adjusted itself.
Leaning forward, I growled, What does that mean? You got that word from your personal therapist, I can tell. Tell me what you told him before he put that name on it.
I told him just what I told you, we were talking and meeting and writing emails. That’s it.
Then what’s the
attachment part about?
I really miss her when I’m not around her.
And you’re telling me this for what purpose?
Well, I wanted to be honest with you. I mean we’re trying to work things out, right?
Up until this moment, I guess I really thought we were, but when you tell me you have an emotional attachment to someone else, there is a big question in my mind. Are you still seeing her?
Yes. But, like I said, we’re only friends.
No, you can’t continue to see that bitch.
He looked shocked. What do you mean? She’s my friend. I don’t tell you who you can be friends with.
I’ve never told you I had an emotional attachment to a friend of the opposite sex, especially one that I kissed once.
Well, that just happened one time, and we decided we wouldn’t go there and we haven’t.
But it never occurred to you to decide to stop seeing each other altogether?
Well, we talked about it but decided we couldn’t and it wasn’t necessary.
He stroked the cat softly and glanced at me.
I started shaking uncontrollably I knew I needed time to think but I also knew that for him to continue seeing her, at the same time we were trying to work on the marriage, was impossible for me.
The first thing I need you to promise me is that you’ll stop seeing and talking to her this very instant! Later on, after I’ve had time to process this, we’ll have to talk about what it looks like going forward. Up until now, our problems have been a matter of differences in our future dreams now that the kids are grown. This changes everything. This is a major trust issue. Promise me now.
He looked at me, surprised, Not see her anymore?
You have until tomorrow to decide. I think you’re asking me to let you have your cake and eat it too. That’s not going to happen. So you decide, and then we’ll talk about what the next steps are.
Still shaking and with tears in my eyes, I felt hollowness in the pit of my stomach.
He left the room, and although we shared a bed that night, we said nothing to each other. He came to bed long after me, and though I wasn’t asleep, I pretended to be. I suspect he had talked to her about our conversation.
In the end, we decided to end our twenty-year marriage. It had been almost a year since we had that conversation when I planned a trip to Greece as a present to myself. Two weeks of sightseeing and relaxation on a Greek cruise that started from a port in Venice was just what I needed. I had traveled quite a lot, but always with someone. The thought of going alone made it seem a real adventure and very liberating and independent. That independence was something that I cherished.
My love affair with Italy started on that trip.
CHAPTER 2
The Possibility of Love
WHEN THE PLANE TOUCHED down in Venice, the departure point of the cruise, I felt strong, independent, and excited. The ride from the airport to the pier was a blur, and a water taxi took me to my hotel. I looked at the rippling water in the amazing red and gold sunrise glowing on the antique, ornate palaces and felt the stirrings of something inside. A bubbling up of who I might be, where I might go; the life I might lead in the future dawned like the new day over Venice. I laughed aloud and then cried with joy. Other passengers turned and looked at me with puzzled faces. We were all tired after the long overnight flight, and I laughed again and chalked it up to my emotions.
The rest of that day spurred on by some well of energy that had surfaced with this new feeling, I walked the city. I could feel the smile on my face as I took photos of everything and everybody. I noticed things that I probably wouldn’t normally notice; the curve of the wrought iron on a terrace, people kissing by the ocean, an old man eating gelato alone on a park bench, and the smell of the sea.
I got lost in the alleyways and narrow streets and crisscrossed the many bridges over the canals, gasping when I came upon the Rialto Bridge, St. Mark’s Square and the Bridge of Sighs. I booked dinner for one in a fabulously expensive restaurant and drank prosecco, Italy’s bubbly, elegant answer to champagne and people-watched others at nearby tables.
Around midnight, more than a little tipsy from exhaustion and prosecco, I made my way across St. Mark’s back to my hotel. The streets were still busy with folks strolling or having an after-dinner drink at the outside cafes. The October breeze blew the first notes of autumn into the air and I shivered. Are you cold? Here take my jacket,
said a heavily accented voice behind me. I turned.
No, I’m fine, just the wind, thank you,
I said, turning to walk away from his outstretched hand holding the jacket.
I heard his footsteps quicken behind me as he asked, Can I offer to you a drink?
Here, there is a table by the seaside. A beautiful woman should not spend this beautiful evening all alone. Please."
I turned and looked at him. He was just what you would imagine if you were having a wonderful dream. Dark hair and complexion, with deep warm brown eyes, a well-trimmed mustache, what appeared to be none other than an Armani suit and of course, black Italian leather shoes. I’m in a public place with lots of people around, I thought. What’s the harm?
I smiled and said, Okay. Why not?
I moved toward the chair he was already pulling out from the table for me.
His name was Marco and we shared a few drinks and then walked the city until the sun came up. We talked about our marriages and children and divorce and meeting new people and growing up. He had some similar experiences and some that were different, and it struck me how alike people really are all over the world. He was from Milan and was in Venice for business. We kissed goodnight in the middle of the Rialto Bridge and went our separate ways. We made no false pretenses about our future, but I still cherish the memory of that day and evening. Everything about it was new, exciting, adventurous, and honest. I felt like I could fly.
I returned to my hotel room in a state of euphoria. I had a couple of hours to shower and get my things together and over to the ship, which was departing at eleven a.m. I wasn’t tired at all and felt like I was high in a very good way. I showered, changed, and got a taxi to take me over to the ship. I boarded and looked back at Venice and the beautiful canals and palaces lining them. I didn’t want to leave this magical place. I was a little worried about how Greece would stand up to this place and at one point while packing, I thought about canceling and staying in Venice. I felt like I had been reborn here. Suddenly a giggle escaped as I stood at the rail of the ship watching the city move out of sight with the cool salty breeze against my cheeks. I have an emotional attachment to Venice, I thought. Now I get it! I couldn’t wait to get to my cabin and my computer to start planning my return vacation to that magical city.
The cruise and the Greek Isles did not disappoint me. The ship moved from one island to the next, the water was a deep sapphire blue with sand of pink, white, and black. The white houses with blue roofs shimmered against the clear sky.
The Greek men flirted shamelessly, and so did I. They offered me the thick delicious clear licorice flavored ouzo that turned cloudy when you put an ice cube in it. I ate tiny fried fish, grilled octopus, eggplant, and feta cheese over the tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions of a Greek salad. The olives and olive oil were like nectar.
I stood among some of the ruins on Rhodes and felt the ancient spirits as they seeped from the hardened earth below. I was small and seemed young in the world with monumental antiquities and history of the ages around me.
I sat by the sea almost every evening and had a glass of wine, either in some port or on the ship’s deck. I savored every minute and practically exhausted myself trying to do, see, experience every minute of every port, village, and site. I had dinner with some of the other passengers in the evenings. The cruise was Italian, but they had sat the few English speakers together. We talked about how we had passed the day and what our plans were for tomorrow, often deciding to go together on an excursion.
I enjoyed being on my own. I got lost in taking photos of everything at every angle, framing it with greenery and experimenting with the light. I felt my mind and my heart starting to open and started to write in my journal every evening the things that I had seen and experienced.
I was always influenced by books and movies. I thought of one of my favorites, Shirley Valentine, and how she had found her place in Greece and moved there. Grown children and an inattentive and ungrateful husband were her situations, and it intrigued me in a different way this time. The parallels were startling. I had primarily focused on the comedic value of the film previously, but now I thought about Shirley’s ability to find herself again in another place, create a new life, and find love. Now I was taking my own adventure.
Interior_IMG%2022%20The%20Rialto%20Bridge-Venice_20170219071252.jpgThe Rialto Bridge-Venice
CHAPTER 3
The Flight to Florence
I PUT MY CARRY-ON bag overhead after pulling out my iPod, book, glasses, lip gloss and hand cream. As a seasoned traveler, I knew just the things that I would need. Inside the iPod case was also some money for a glass or two of wine. I sat down and immediately put the earplugs in my ears. What I needed to do was relax. Just relax, breathe, think, and hopefully, sleep a little. I watched the other travelers around me organize their things. Most were traveling with someone, thankfully not many children, and it looked like the plane would be full. As of now, the seat next to me was still empty, and I just prayed that whoever sat there might leave me in peace.
I had barely gotten the thought out of my head when a woman, a bit older than me, or at least not so particular about removing the gray from her hair asked, Is this row fourteen?
I glanced at the number above my head, Yes.
Oh, okay, I’m here.
A woman pointed to the aisle seat, and I turned back to my iPod and looked out the window. She continued organizing her things and finally sat down and buckled up. I saw out of the corner of my eye that she was looking around and taking everything in. I closed my eyes and listened to the music of Andrea Bocelli. Was this really happening? Was I really going to Italy for a year?
I felt a tapping on my arm and turned to see the flight attendant telling me to turn off the iPod. I removed the earplugs, shut it off and put it in the seatback pocket. The woman next to me saw this as an opportunity to start a conversation. Where are you going?
she asked.
I’m going to Italy, and you?
I tried to say politely. There’s always a fine line once you started conversing with a seatmate. Sometimes, it’s hard to turn off the conversation and this was a long flight.
I’m going to Paris. I’m meeting my girlfriend there. This is only my second time on an airplane, and I’ve never been out of the country.
She giggled, Are you scared?
She looked me in the eye.
Of what? Flying, or going to Italy?
Ok, so we would be on different flights once we got to Charlotte, I thought. The flight we were on started in Nashville, flew to Charlotte and continued on to London, where I had a connecting flight to Florence. It could be a really long eleven hours.
Well, both I guess.
she laughed again and I saw that she was gripping the arm of the seat a little.
No, I’m definitely not afraid of flying. For my job, I traveled thirty-eight weeks out of fifty-two last year, all of which involved flights, and sometimes more than one per week. I also took flying lessons for single engine planes and accumulated about forty hours towards my license. I have just enough knowledge to be dangerous, I guess. I know what sounds to listen for if the flight is okay on takeoff and landing. As for going to Italy…that I’m a little afraid of.
I began to relax a little and enjoy the conversation. I had been called cold and unapproachable by some of the folks who worked for me, but that wasn’t necessarily true. I am just incredibly introverted. This time, I was excited to share my story now that it was finally happening.
I am not really afraid of flying, just haven’t done it much. I kind of like it really. At least I did the first time, but that was only for three hours when my husband and I went to San Francisco for our anniversary. This flight is much longer, so I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t know any French and neither does my girlfriend, so I am worried about communicating in Paris. She has never been there either, but she has traveled in Europe before. She just got divorced, so she asked me to take this celebration trip with her. More than anything, I am just excited, I guess. Why are you afraid of going to Italy?
I’m taking a year’s leave of absence from my job and I’ve spent the past two months selling my car, my condo, most of my stuff, and putting a few things in storage. I’m going to live in another country and learn another language.
Ahhh.
she exclaimed, Aren’t you brave?
her eyes grew wide and filled with a million more questions, but her hands relaxed on the seat. She paused and listened intently as the flight attendant explained the safety procedures, glancing at the space overhead where the oxygen mask was to come from and checking the nearest exit as instructed. As the flight attendants finished the safety instructions and secured themselves into their seats for takeoff, she closed her eyes, leaned her head against the headrest and took a deep breath. We proceeded down the runway, speed accelerating for takeoff. We lifted, turned and I heard the compartment for the landing gear open and the wheels lift and stow.
The flight attendants explained that the in-flight beverage service would begin soon, and I reached for my money. She opened her eyes and said, Oh are you going to have a drink? Let me buy, we both need it!
The flight attendant came by and we ordered our drinks. As we sat back sipping, she said, Please tell me more.
What else do you want to know?
I asked.
Well, what led you to this?
A New Year’s resolution,
I said. I wanted to live in another place and do something different. I’ve been bored with my job and I needed to get out of Nashville. Oh, sorry, are you from there?
Nashville? No, I’m not from there but I moved there to go to Vanderbilt thirty years ago, and never left. I love it there. I’m from Huntsville, Alabama originally.
I grew up in Nashville but left when I went to college. I lived in the Washington D.C. area for twenty years, and that’s where I raised my family. About four years ago, I was divorced and moved back to Nashville for a promotional opportunity, but I guess it’s true that you can’t go back. It was a great transition place, but I need something different. Anyway, when I made the resolution, I had thought I would go somewhere else with my job, but that didn’t work out so I came up with Plan B.
What part of Italy are you going to?
I’m going to Florence
And obviously, you have been there before?
Yes, once for two weeks. I’ve traveled to many parts of Italy and it was tough to decide where to go this time. I thought about going to Rome, but Rome is a huge city, and I’ve never lived in a city that large so felt it might be too much too soon. Venice is lovely, but a little too isolated and tough to get around in. Florence is beautiful, pedestrian, small, and the birthplace of the Italian language, so it works.
It seems like you’ve gotten past some pretty big hurdles, what are you afraid of?
I’m limiting my fears to the immediate future, which is getting to the apartment and meeting the apartment manager and my landlord. I found the apartment on-line, so I’ve never seen it in person, and I am hoping there aren’t any unpleasant surprises. I know there are about seventy-two stairs, and I have no idea how I am going to get my four huge bags up those stairs, and for right now, that’s all I am letting myself think about. I guess I’m more excited than scared, but you never know what’s going to happen, and that is so much fun.
Do you speak any Italian?
Shaking my head, Very, very little, but I have traveled to foreign countries before and it is amazing how much you can communicate without speaking the same language. You said you were worried about that, but don’t be…..although the French are a lot less forgiving of those who don’t speak their language than the Italians are. I start my language classes in about three weeks. So, you’re excited about Paris?
I asked, uncomfortable with all of the attention.
Yes. Have you been there?
Yes, and it is beautiful. You’re going to have a great time. How long are you staying?
We chatted off and on, and the one-hour flight to Charlotte was over quickly. We were still deep in conversation when the plane landed, and she look surprised and said, I was so enjoying our conversation, I didn’t even notice we landed. Now I don’t know which I’m more excited about, going to Paris or your great adventure.
Well, be more excited about going to Paris, silly. Oh, you can follow my adventures if you want to. I’m planning to write a blog to keep all my friends and family updated about what’s going on. I also want to hear from you about what you thought of Paris.
We exchanged email addresses and hugs and said our goodbyes as we parted to search for our connecting gates.
The flight to London was practically deserted and I had two seats all to myself. Aren’t I lucky? I thought. Boy! Aren’t I lucky? I’m moving to Italy for a year! Oh shit! I spent the next eight hours vacillating between incredible excitement, fear, and disbelief. What am I thinking? I hope I never go back! What about my job? Italy for a year! The thoughts swirled in my head like a hurricane. I finally slept fitfully for a couple of hours and then I was in London, moving through immigration and having to run to get to my connecting flight. I will be in Florence in two hours and the real adventure begins. Oh God! I laid my head on the headrest and thought about the things that had led me to this point.
CHAPTER 4
Kate
KATE WAS NOT ONLY the Human Resources Director for the states that I managed as a Senior Claims Director she was my best friend. We were usually great at separating things, but it could sometimes be awkward when we knowingly mixed our personal and business relationship. We did a good job of maintaining professionalism in most instances at the office. We had known each other only a short time but had an instant bond and the same way of thinking about almost everything. She had been with the company only a couple of years, and I had been there twenty-two.
I had been wildly successful, throwing all my energy from my empty nest
and divorce into my work. It had been wonderful being back in Nashville, my hometown, during this time, and the job had been