When the shaking finally stopped, I was almost more frightened than I had been during the earthquake itself. I stood there, trying to process what had just happened. I knew there could be aftershocks, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.
The electricity was out. I had no internet. And outside, my pueblo was strangely silent.
Still.
Too still.
I needed shoes, so I entered the Villa. The scene inside was the first indication of just how violent the shaking had been. Paintings were scattered across the floor. The kitchen glasses had shattered, leaving shards of glass everywhere. I went upstairs, found my shoes, and began checking every floor of the house.
Things had fallen everywhere.
In my office, picture frames had crashed to the floor, along with more broken glass. I put the dogs out on the patio and closed the doors leading outside. Then I found a broom and began sweeping.
It felt absurdly ordinary.
There I was, standing in the aftermath of an earthquake, sweeping broken glass off the floor because I was worried my dogs might cut their paws.
Then I checked the Cristal House cabin. Shattered windows. More glass.
The wooden Adventura Treehouse cabin was still standing, although items had fallen onto the bed and floor. The suspended bridge needed bolts because the vertical tubes were hanging at an odd angle. The stables looked fine, but one end of the roof sagged.
At least everything was still standing.
My front gate was locked, and Yesid, my employee, had arrived almost immediately. But I was in shock. I hadn’t even thought to unlock the gate.
He could see from outside that my house was still standing. He could see Cristal House, too. He knew I was alright.
I wanted to go out and find out what was happening, but another thought stopped me. What if I got stuck on the road? What if trees had fallen? What if the road was blocked?
So I stayed. And I waited. With no electricity and no internet, I had no idea how bad the earthquake actually was. I had no way of knowing what was happening beyond my little corner of the pueblo.
I didn’t know that Colombia had made news around the world. I had no idea many people were trying to contact me. I didn’t know yet how badly Cali and other parts of Colombia had been affected. I would find out later. All I could do was wait and hope the electricity would return and, with that, my internet.
Those two minutes turned into a long day without information. I didn’t go to my neighbors because my knee, which needed surgery, kept me from walking long distances. I didn’t want to drive anywhere because I didn’t know the road conditions.
My family and friends knew more than I did! I was desperate to know what was going on.
Yesid came by after lunch and gave me a lot of information. He had a radio and was listening to earthquake notices. I finally found out it was a magnitude 7.4, and at my Villa it lasted over 2 minutes. At the time, it felt like an eternity. I now knew many people were worried about me. I could do nothing but wait.
I had damage, but my Villa and cabins were still standing. I realized how blessed I was to have made it through such a strong Earthquake with repairable damage, and, most importantly, to be okay.
When the electricity returned, my phone was blowing up with messages. I answered everyone I could. I told them I was alive with only minor damage at the Villa.
But I wasn’t fine. I was traumatized, and it has only gotten worse since the Earthquake happened. I started thinking about the year I’ve had and the weather events that had occurred.
I had damage from the first two storms, and now I have more damage. My neighbor’s trees fell on my fence, and they haven’t fixed it even though it is their fault. I have lost a friendship over that. I know that if I had damaged someone’s property, I would take care of it.
Then the earthquake caused more damage to what had already been repaired from those first two storms. It also damaged my bridge and the roof of my stables. I need to file another property damage claim with my insurance.
Many of you have written to me because you saw my posts on my social media sites where I put my place up for sale. The damage, the shortage of good workers, and being alone when these weather events hit helped me decide to downsize.
I want to thank each and every one of you who have contacted me. I am the same old me. I know this place is unique and beautiful. I have created a paradise, and I am very proud of that. A wonderful couple from Colombia is taking care of my listing.
The story of how I found them makes me sure they are the perfect team for my needs. I knew that night after the Earthquake, I wanted to sell. I spoke with my cousin, an excellent realtor in West Palm Beach, and she found this couple for me in one day. Not only did she find them, but when she spoke to them, they were at the airport on the way to Cali, Colombia! I met with them the 4 days after the Earthquake.
I believe in manifestation: it happens when you want something and work to make it happen. When those first storms hit at the beginning of the year, it occurred to me that I should sell. It has been on my mind all year.
So now, I have started the process. I don’t need to do much but let my realtors take over. I have done all the work in the last 15 years. My place is well-known; I believe it will sell itself.
I know that selling might not happen fast, although from all the people contacting me, you would think I had already sold my place. In Colombia, nothing happens quickly. In the meantime, I have made a few changes to my business.
I am now offering long-term stays here. If you or anyone you know wants to come visit, I have a very affordable monthly stay PDF with my rates in Colombian pesos. You can stay in Colombia up to six months without a Visa.
If you enjoy your time here, there are many ways to get a Visa, especially a pension Visa. I would love to host a few senior women in my Villa and make a small community, but anyone is welcome. If you know anyone looking for a change, it would be a perfect place to start. After all, I’ve made changes in my life several times. It has always worked out well for me.
This newsletter is about finding paradise in ordinary moments. I don’t write about extraordinary things. I write about noticing ordinary things that most people rush past. When people arrive at Villa Migelita, many of them eventually take off their shoes. They don’t do it because there’s a sign. They do it because something shifts. They relax. They slow down. They feel at home. And they walk barefoot in the grass.
There’s something about the people who stay here. By the second day, many are walking barefoot. No one tells them to.
It just happens.
Maybe it’s the grass. Maybe it’s the mountain air. Maybe it’s because, for a little while, they stop worrying about looking polished and start feeling present.
I think that’s what paradise is. Not luxury. Not perfection. Just the freedom to kick off your shoes. I’ve realized I’ve become a little barefoot too. Not just in my shoes, but in the way I live. Less rushing. Less proving. More noticing.
.
Nature always has a way of bringing balance to our lives.
Lately, I’ve been adopted by not one, but two Western Emerald hummingbirds.
One lives at the feeders outside my suite, and the other has claimed the feeders in the social area. If I’m not quick enough filling them, they don’t hesitate to remind me. They follow me to the kitchen, trail me down the stairs, and sometimes buzz around my head like tiny Fourth of July sparklers.
This isn’t the first time.
A few years ago, I had a little Western Emerald I named Magic. He lived here for nearly three years. Every time I drove home, he somehow knew I had arrived. I’d open the truck door, and there he’d be, waiting to greet me. We had our own little routine.
When Magic stopped coming, I missed him more than I expected. It’s funny how attached you can become to something so small.
Now, these two little emeralds have taken over the job. They greet me every day, chatter at me when breakfast is late, and yes… I talk to them.
How can I not when they make sure I know I am not fast enough to fill their feeder?
Here in the mountains of Colombia, I’ve learned that nature has its own language. Sometimes all you have to do is slow down long enough to hear it.
I’ve written before about how different homes are here in the Colombian countryside. Most of us don’t have air conditioning or central heat. Instead, we live with our doors open to the balconies, inviting the breeze to wander through. City life may be a little different, but not by much.
Living this way means accepting that nature doesn’t stop at your front door. A bee might buzz through the kitchen. A hummingbird may accidentally find its way inside. A giant grasshopper—considered good luck here—might appear on the wall. Every now and then, I’ll spot a witch moth quietly resting in a corner. And yes, the downstairs bathroom occasionally has a tiny toad tucked behind the door.
It isn’t unusual. It’s simply part of life.
The Witch Moth
There is no darkness at my house. Only light, glorious light.
Sometimes a butterfly will land on my hand
Every morning, sunlight pours through the open windows, and I wake to the warmth of a new day. The breeze wanders through the hallway and across the balconies. It’s impossible not to feel connected to the world outside.
I believe there is something deeply healing about living this way.
We spend so much of our lives trying to separate from nature, when perhaps we were meant to be part of it all along.
My guests seem to understand that. They don’t complain about the occasional visitor with wings or long legs. In fact, many embrace it. I’ve watched couples head out after sunset with flashlights in hand, eager to discover what comes alive after dark. They’re not looking for luxury; they’re looking for an experience.
Paradise isn’t perfect. It chirps, hops, buzzes, croaks, and sometimes flies right through your front door.
And somehow, that makes it feel even more like home.
You know what surprised me this week? Reading about the “simple” trend.
Apparently, I’ve been living it for years.
Everything here is simple. My life isn’t perfect, but it is peaceful. I still have problems. We all do. The difference is that I have a place that reminds me to slow down long enough to figure them out.
Maybe that’s what paradise has been trying to teach me all along.
Riding Honey, my cousin’s horse. I was around 14 or 15 years old.
My fifty-year high school reunion is coming up in November, and it has me thinking about my life. Where is everyone now? What have they done with the fifty years that slipped by in what feels like the blink of an eye?
When I need to make sense of something this big, I write.
When I graduated from high school, I did it on the sly. I skipped the whole cap-and-gown ceremony that fills social media feeds today. Instead, I quietly packed my bags, headed to Tallahassee, and enrolled at Florida State University. I wanted to graduate early and start college, so I did.
Just like that.
My parents, who always encouraged independence, trusted me enough to let me follow my own path. Looking back, I realize that moment set the tone for my life. When I decided to become a flight attendant, I did it. When I decided to move to Colombia decades later, I did that too.
Just like that.
Maybe that’s been the story of my life. I didn’t follow the expected path, but followed the one that felt right to me. As this reunion gets closer, I’m not just wondering where everyone else ended up. I also appreciate the unexpected road that brought me to exactly where I am today.
17 years old at Smith Hall …Florida State. It was the only dorm open when I entered FSU in the Spring semester of 1976. It was really ugly and looked like a prison.
While I was in college, I made good grades and did what my parents expected of me. But if I’m being honest, dancing was still the most important thing on my mind.
Saturday Night Fever had hit the theaters, and disco fever had taken over Florida State University. I spent my nights with a great group of friends dancing at Big Daddy’s, where we thought life would always be that carefree.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, so college was as much about growing up as it was about getting an education. More than anything, it was my first taste of freedom. After years of living with rules and expectations, being on my own felt like heaven.
Then life threw me a curveball.
I got sick, had to take an incomplete, and returned home. Surprisingly, I wasn’t worried. I figured I’d recover, work for a while, and head back to FSU. I took a job as a receptionist while I waited to re-enroll.
But my mother had other plans.
She suggested I apply to be a stewardess. Yes, that’s what we were called back then.
Little did I know that by spring, just after my twentieth birthday, I would be the youngest person in Delta Air Lines’ training class.
Sometimes the biggest chapters of our lives begin with someone else’s suggestion.
My classmates and our instructor at the Delta Air Lines graduation
At the time, there were only two airlines that hired flight attendants at age twenty, and Delta took me into its family. I applied the moment I was eligible, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Getting hired wasn’t easy. Even then, Delta was known for being incredibly selective, and earning a spot in a training class was something to be proud of. After surviving the rigorous training program, I traded textbooks for wings.
For the first time in my life, I was completely on my own. I was earning a good salary, traveling the country, and making my own decisions. It was the career I had dreamed about for as long as I could remember, and suddenly, I was living it.
Looking back, I realize that the seventeen-year-old girl who quietly left home for college had no idea she was about to begin the adventure that would shape so much of the next chapter of her life.
At the pool. The apartments were a dump. We didn’t care. College Park was not pretty in 1978. Now it is very trendy.
Living with a house full of other “stews” in College Park, Georgia, was an adventure all its own. After training, we were all assigned to Delta’s Atlanta base, and suddenly, we were a bunch of twenty-somethings learning how to navigate adulthood while flying all over the country.
It was an exciting, unpredictable life.
I can still picture us lounging by the apartment pool on our days off, our beepers never far from reach. At any moment, one of them could go off, and we’d jump up, throw on our uniforms, grab the suitcases that were always packed, and head to the airport.
That was life on reserve.
We never knew where we’d be flying that day—or even if we’d make it back home that night. But at twenty years old, that uncertainty wasn’t stressful. It was exhilarating. Every beep held the promise of another adventure, another city, another story waiting to happen.
Japan. I was mobbed by school kids because I was tall and had blue eyes. I felt like a celebrity. They would make me take my sunglasses off to take a photo of my eyes!
It was a wonderful way to earn a living because I had so much time off. Flying back then was very different from what it is today. It’s still an admirable profession with wonderful benefits, but the pace and the pressure have changed dramatically.
When I signed in for a trip during those first months, I was on reserve and usually paired with senior flight attendants who quietly continued my training. They showed us the little things you could never learn in a classroom; the tricks of the trade, how to handle every situation, and how to take care of passengers with confidence and grace.
Sometimes we’d end up in San Francisco. Other times it was Los Angeles. The really exotic layovers usually belonged to the senior “mamas,” but every trip was an adventure, and those experienced flight attendants took us junior newbies under their wings.
When I wasn’t flying, I was usually out with my friends, most of whom were flight attendants too. Let’s face it… it was one great big party, both in the air and on the ground.
With all that time off, I traveled whenever I could. Europe. Japan. New York City. Los Angeles. The world really was my oyster, and I couldn’t wait to see what was around the next corner.
Marriage wasn’t even on my radar. Adventure was.
And I had found it in a career I truly loved.
Europe. Princess Diana stage of dressing
After Atlanta, I transferred to Miami. Once again, I found myself living in a questionable apartment complex this time it was in Kendall. But honestly, none of us cared. It was full of other flight attendants, close to all the trendy spots, and life revolved around flying and having fun.
We went out constantly. Flight attendants were welcome at all the best clubs, and we knew exactly which nights were the ones not to miss.
By then, I was finally holding a schedule called a “line” in airline lingo. Imagine getting paid to work only three or four days a week! Even better, we could bid trips with our friends, so many flights felt more like hanging out than going to work.
We really were our own bosses once those aircraft doors closed.
I still remember the excitement when the first L-1011 arrived at our Miami base. To us, it was pure luxury. It even had an elevator! The service carts glided effortlessly down the aisles, and on longer flights we’d serve full meals, complete with ice cream sundaes, fruit, and cheese. Cleanup was easy because everything stacked neatly back into the carts.
That was a far cry from my first flights on the DC-9. Back then, we carried heavy trays loaded with ice and drinks up and down the aisle, hoping the ride stayed smooth. If turbulence hit, it became a balancing act. We’d barely finish service before racing to our jump seats for landing.
The stretch DC-8 had its own challenges. We worked assembly-line style, passing trays down the aisle while someone in the galley shoved them back into narrow metal compartments as fast as they came in.
By the end of the flight, we’d often be wearing more barbecue sauce than the passengers had eaten.
Looking back, it wasn’t glamorous every minute of every day. It was hard work. But we were young, we loved what we were doing, and somehow even the messy days became some of my favorite memories.
Fast forward a few years, and my life was full of close friendships, much like it had been in high school. We bid our schedules together, flew together whenever we could, and spent our days off together. We were always doing something fun.
People often ask if I wanted to settle down back then. The truth is, I wasn’t in any hurry.
Looking back, I realize what an incredible lifestyle I had created for myself. I had a career I loved, enough seniority to enjoy a great schedule, wonderful friends, and the freedom to live life on my own terms. I didn’t need anyone else to build a good life.
My dad found me the perfect little studio apartment in Fort Lauderdale, it was a big upgrade from my Kendall days. I bought myself a sporty little car, and I honestly felt like I was living the life I’d dreamed about as a young girl.
Of course, I dated. One of my boyfriends was Frank Diaz, founder and producer of the group Exposé. We’re still good friends all these years later, which says a lot about the kind of person he is.
Then one of my best friends introduced me to the man who would become my first husband.
Even then, I wasn’t rushing toward marriage. If anything, I was perfectly content with the life I had already built. But sometimes life has its own timetable, and before long, I found myself engaged… and eventually married.
Frank and I in the early 80’s
I was my most important investment in life. Everyone should invest in themselves, and if someone comes along who invests with you, that is even better!
Amsterdam. Best vacation ever. Met a cute guy…and we kept in touch for a long time.
One of the greatest gifts my airline career gave me was independence. Every woman should know what it feels like to stand on her own two feet, support herself, and realize she doesn’t need anyone else to build a happy life. If she chooses to share that life with someone, it should be because she wants to not because she has to.
When I did get married, my first husband wasn’t the best choice for me. If only we’d had Google and internet sleuthing back then! I probably would have asked a few more questions before saying “I do.”
He was a good person with flaws, as we all have, but he also had legal troubles that made our life together far more difficult than I had imagined.
Even so, I don’t look back with regret.
That chapter made me stronger than I ever thought I could be. It taught me resilience, confidence, and the importance of trusting my instincts.
During those years, we lived in Newport, Rhode Island, where I met Shannon, who would become my best friend for life. I also enjoyed a wonderful lifestyle and continued to build a career that gave me opportunities most people only dream about.
Looking back now, I realize that every chapter, even the difficult ones were shaping me into the woman I would eventually become.
Misha with her biological father, Timmy
That chapter came to an end when my first husband went to prison for a white-collar crime. I stuck by him through his prison term, but when he came home he wasn’t the same person I married.
But because I had built a career before I ever got married, I wasn’t starting over with nothing. I had my job, a condo that became mine in the divorce, and, most importantly, my daughter, Misha, the greatest gift to come from that marriage and the love of my life.
My parents, as always, stood beside me and were ready to help in any way they could. Knowing they were there gave me comfort, but it was also when I realized I had to take the reins of my own life.
Looking back, I can see that my independence wasn’t just something I enjoyed when I was young, it became the foundation that carried me through one of the most difficult seasons of my life.
Sometimes the choices we make in our twenties don’t just shape our happiest moments. They become the very things that help us survive our hardest ones.
Fashion was always part of my life
I was a single mom, but I was able to build a good life without feeling overwhelmed. I had a nice condo on the water in Fort Lauderdale, a cute little car, a career I loved, and those wonderful friends who worked with me and played with me.
Most importantly, I had my daughter, Misha. She was my pride and joy and the center of my world.
As I started over with a young child, I didn’t feel the pressure to find another husband. I had already checked those boxes. I had been married. I had my precious daughter. I wasn’t looking for someone to complete my life because my life already felt complete.
So when I dated, I never carried that desperate energy that so many people feel after a divorce. My attitude was more like, “Been there, done that.”
If the right person came along, wonderful. If not, I knew I’d be just fine.
Looking back, I realize that confidence came from something I had learned years earlier as a young flight attendant. Independence isn’t just about earning your own paycheck. It’s about knowing that, no matter what life throws at you, you’ll find a way forward.
The family I always pictured in my dreams
I have never been much of a planner or someone who constantly looks toward the future. In other words, I’m spontaneous.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s been one of my greatest strengths or one of my biggest flaws. Looking back, I realize I’ve landed on my feet more times than I probably should have. Decisions that could have ended in disaster somehow became some of the best chapters of my life.
Especially the decision to move to another country.
Spontaneity is a backpack I’ve carried my entire life, and I imagine I’ll still be carrying it until the day I die.
When I married for the second time and welcomed my wonderful son, life seemed perfect. I had everything I thought I wanted; a loving husband, two beautiful children, and a career that allowed me to work part-time as a flight attendant while still being present for my family. I had the best of both worlds: I could be a working mom and a stay-at-home mom.
Life doesn’t stand still. It keeps moving while we’re busy believing everything will stay the same. We never see the next chapter coming.
I certainly didn’t.
After spending most of my life in Florida, I never could have imagined that one day I’d pack up everything I owned, leave the life I’d always known, and begin again in Colombia.
But that’s the thing about spontaneity.
Sometimes it quietly becomes the road that leads you home.
Jumping forward to now, I have been asked to help with my 50th high school reunion. It got me thinking that I really am in a place I never thought I would be when I graduated all those years ago. Not just geographically, but emotionally and spiritually too.
High school days, 15 years old.
When I arrived at Florida State University in the spring of 1976, many of my high school classmates were getting ready for prom and graduation. I had already moved on. While they were celebrating the end of high school, I was discovering college life.
And what a life it was.
I had already been to enough proms to last a lifetime, so I never felt like I was missing out. Instead, I was dancing until dawn with my new college friends, walking runway shows as a hair model, and finally learning how to tame my wild curly hair into a style that actually worked. It was the disco era, and I embraced every glittering minute of it.
Whenever I went home for breaks, my parents could barely keep track of the young men who called or stopped by to see me. It was a fun, carefree time, and I was loving every minute of my newfound independence.
But the best thing that happened during my first semester wasn’t the parties or the fashion.
It was meeting Mark.
The first photo in this blog, standing on the roof of Smith Hall, captures a seventeen-year-old girl just beginning her journey. The photos that follow show how I grew into someone who loved fashion, music, and expressing herself without apology. Mark had so much to do with that transformation.
He introduced me to a world filled with disco, style, confidence, and joy. We’d spend hours practicing our dance moves, trying to perfect every spin and step. Thanks to him, I’m still a pretty good dancer today.
Hair model show at FSU
More importantly, he taught me that life should have a little flair. That it’s okay to enjoy fashion. That confidence can be joyful instead of showy. He helped me become comfortable being exactly who I was.
Mark remained one of my dearest friends for the rest of his life. When he recently passed away, I lost someone who had been part of my story for nearly fifty years.
Even now, whenever I hear Donna Summer or the Bee Gees, I’m right back on that dance floor with him.
Some friendships never really end.
They simply become part of the soundtrack of your life.
He also named my daughter. One of my favorite memories of him still makes me smile.
I remember riding in a convertible with him, dressed in black capri pants and a black A-line top that hid my baby belly perfectly, a scarf tied around my head, and big black sunglasses. We were playing Basia through the car speakers, the soundtrack to so many good memories. We came up with her name. Mikel Cara, Misha.
Mark and I strike a pose.Misha was only one month old, and I spent New Year’s with Mark.
What if I had known back then, like in Back to the Future, that I would one day be living in Colombia?
It sounds more like a Netflix series than real life.
Who would have guessed that I’d learn another language, buy a beautiful property in Colombia, and turn it into a thriving business… all in my fifties?
Life has a funny way of surprising us.
I write from my soul as time passes and life’s lessons become memories—some joyful, some heartbreaking.
I write as if I’m the only one who will ever read these words. But the truth is, I hope my son, my granddaughter, and the grandchildren I may never meet will read them one day and think, “Wow… Grandma was kind of a badass.”
Maybe that’s why this blog has meant so much to me over the years.
It helped me survive the greatest heartbreak of my life, the loss of my daughter. Writing grounded me and still does here in Colombia. I have found healing, purpose, and a life I never could have imagined.
I can’t help but wonder what that seventeen-year-old girl would think if she could see me now.
I think she’d be surprised.
I know I still am.
Because the best parts of my life were never the ones I planned.
I write about the life I never planned.
Disco days. 20 years old. Record in my hair.Me in the 80’s. Big hair was so in.
Recently, something unexpected landed in my inbox, one of those moments that makes you stop and read twice.
A message on Facebook Messenger. From my niece.
I hadn’t seen Renee since my daughter’s funeral in 2010. Back then, she was just a baby. I don’t remember much from that week. Grief has a way of blurring everything. And yet here she was, years later, reaching out across time, distance, and the long silence my brother left behind.
“Are you my Aunt?”
She explained that she didn’t know much about me or, really, much about her father’s side of the family at all. Just fragments. I lived in Colombia. That I had an inn.
And then the part that made me smile:
“I found you by searching ‘Inn in Colombia, South America, Michele.’ A review came up with your name. Then I found your Instagram and Facebook and thought… what are the chances?”
What are the chances, indeed? I love that my little resort is so well known that she could find me with just a first name and a country. Sometimes the internet works beautifully.
Now, you might wonder how a family becomes this disconnected — how a niece grows up knowing almost nothing about her aunt. The answer isn’t simple, but it isn’t new either.
My brother has always operated this way. If he disapproved of a choice I made, he would disappear. Not for days or weeks but for years. When I became a flight attendant, he decided it wasn’t a worthy profession. Gone. When I moved to Newport. Gone. When I divorced. Gone again. And like clockwork, he would resurface as if nothing had happened, and I would let him back in, because he was my brother.
He did this to everyone: our parents, our cousins, anyone who didn’t fit neatly into his idea of how things should be. When I told him I was moving to Colombia, I got a speech full of old American stereotypes — cartels, danger, fear. The Colombia I know and live in every day is something else entirely. But that was the last real conversation we ever had. And when he faded out of my life for good, he took Renee and her sister with him. They grew up without knowing me, without knowing any of us on that side of the family.
I wish it could have been different.
I’ve never lived my life according to what other people thought I should do. My brother said it best himself, once: “You have never lived a boring life. You always do what no one else would dream of.” He wasn’t wrong. But living freely has a cost, and sometimes that cost is distance from the people who couldn’t follow you there.
What I didn’t expect was this: back in December, I had been thinking about Renee and her sister. I can’t explain why. Just a quiet wondering — what do they look like now? Who have they become? It felt like nothing more than a passing thought at the time.
And then, a few months later, her message appeared in my inbox.
Life can be mysterious that way.
We’ve been chatting since then, slowly filling in the gaps. Renee had no idea she had a cousin, my son. She also didn’t know about Amaya, my granddaughter, her first cousin once removed. My son is looking forward to meeting her and her sister. There is still so much to find out about each other, and that is exactly what makes this feel like the beginning of something, rather than the end of a long silence.
I’ve invited both girls to visit me here in Colombia, and they want to come. The thought of sitting together in this place I’ve built, sharing stories over good food with the mountains and hummingbirds all around us, feels surreal and deeply healing.
My brother kept us apart for years. But his daughter found me on her own with nothing more than a vague search, a first name, and her own curiosity.
Some threads, it turns out, are stronger than the silence. Life has a strange and beautiful way of returning things to us just when we think they are gone forever.
Thank you for reading my story.
If this touched you, reminded you of someone you’ve lost touch with, or inspired you to reach out to a loved one, I’d love to hear from you. Please leave a comment below and share your own experience.
And if you enjoy stories about family, healing, life in Colombia, and the unexpected ways life brings us full circle, be sure to follow my blog so you don’t miss future posts.
Sometimes the most meaningful connections arrive when we least expect them.
I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to start with something real from my life here in the mountains of Colombia.
In February, a bad storm came through, and it made one thing painfully clear: I was not prepared for disaster. In a matter of moments, that storm turned everything upside down. It brought emotional turmoil and damage to my glamping place, and my community in El Meson was hit hard, too. We were all suddenly in the same situation, trying to deal with what had happened.
Looking out from the side of my Villa. The view opened up. You can see the damage on my neighbor’s side of the structures.
In the aftermath, I’m still waiting for the man who handles all the work here at Villa Migelita Ecolodge to arrive, along with the insurance adjuster to assess the damage. Living high in the mountains has taught me many things, patience being one of them. There’s no rushing repairs when your options are limited. I can only do what I can, and stressing about it won’t change the outcome.
For now, I explain the situation to my guests and keep moving forward. I need a new balcony roof, but the room is still rentable — as long as guests don’t mind skipping the balcony if it rains. At the moment, the damaged roof is being held up by one very strong wire, which feels both slightly concerning and very real life here.
Thankfully, my workers removed the fallen trees right away— they know this isn’t just my home; it’s my business.
So while I wait, I’ve started removing the trees near the house that could cause future damage. One worker finally wrote me and said he would be arriving. Hallelujah! And honestly? There’s a bright side. The sunlight pouring into the property now is incredible. I’m seeing light and views I haven’t noticed in years. I’m planning to turn the leftover branches into bird feeding stations and use some for my orchids.
When disaster strikes, all we see at first is the damage —until later, when the positive side begins to reveal itself. My views are now incredible from every side of the property. The trees that fell on the neighboring land opened up the mountains in a way I haven’t seen in years. What once felt like destruction is slowly starting to look a lot like perspective.
As my mom always said, make a plus out of a minus.
My views are beautiful and far-reaching again
Sometimes life clears away what we didn’t know was blocking the view.
The morning LB left, I realized I felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. It was still early, the sun not yet visible as the soft light of dawn slowly appeared. The stillness around me was comforting. The hummingbirds began to flit near the feeders, starting their day, while my dogs gathered around me, ready for their morning meal.
I stood watching them eat, then wandered to the balcony, where I watched the hummingbirds move quickly and effortlessly, exactly where they were meant to be. I felt something shift inside me. I didn’t feel sadness, nor relief. Just clarity—that quiet sense of knowing I was exactly where I wanted to be, without the need for another person to define my life.
The life I had built in Colombia came back to me in that moment—shaped by my instincts, my intuition, my mistakes, and my decisions. Standing there, looking out over the mountains, I realized how much I loved this life.
And for the first time, I allowed myself to fully accept something I hadn’t said out loud before: I didn’t need anyone else to fill the space beside me.
Christmas brought rest after a busy month of hosting guests at my glamping site. LB was with his family in the U.S., and we were back to sending memes on WhatsApp. I felt rested, finally free from his constant neediness—the disrupted sleep, the phone in hand at all hours.
As December came to a close, I was busy preparing for New Year’s Eve, one of my busiest times of the year. Every room was filled. And yet, I felt content.
My life in Colombia had healed me in ways I hadn’t fully recognized before. I no longer felt the need for someone else to complete me. If someone wants to join me on my journey, they would have to be an equal—grounded, self-aware, and whole in their own right.
I have spent years building this life, shaping it through reflection, growth, and hard-earned clarity. And I know how important it is to protect that.
LB had returned to his life in the United States, but I noticed a quiet shift in our communication. He would let my messages sit unread for long periods or respond with a simple heart. Then, after hours of silence, he would send a string of memes, most of them centered on love.
I had been thinking about how to talk to him about his habits during his visit in December. I knew I couldn’t have him back without some honest conversation and meaningful changes. As I mentioned in my last blog, he had said he would visit every month, but never said when he would return. I wasn’t asking by then—I already knew my feelings had shifted while he was here.
Then I got the text that changed everything.
It started simply: “I don’t understand why you aren’t reading my messages.”
His reply was: “I don’t appreciate being chastised for not immediately responding like you’re an unhappy client.”
Just one dismissive message. That was enough.
In that moment, I realized continuing the communication wasn’t healthy for me. I don’t do drama. I value my peace. So I responded the way I always do when something feels off: I stepped back into silence.
It wasn’t just the text—it was everything that had been building beneath it. And suddenly, I no longer felt the need to address any of it.
Later, he sent me an email. He argued at length that he had always been direct with me, that my blogs misrepresented him, and that I had never raised my concerns in real time.
I had planned to do that gently, in my own way, but his reaction to a simple question had already shown me how those conversations would go.
Reading his email, I noticed a pattern. He focused on what I hadn’t done, not on what had actually happened between us. In that moment, I knew I didn’t need to respond in detail. I already understood enough.
I found his idea of love interesting. He said his feelings were genuine, that he was the thoughtful one, and that his love was real—yet there was never any accountability. The text he had sent was simply ignored, as if it didn’t exist.
I had to laugh.
He tried to provoke me, calling me a “mess” as a joke, and I replied, “Maybe you should add saying ‘I’m sorry’ to your resume.” He didn’t know how to read me at all.
Then he quickly replied, asking if I would write a fourth blog titled, “What if the Love Bomber Really Loved Me?” and signed it, Warm Regards, The Love Bomber. I actually laughed out loud.
When we first met in Bogotá, he told me he didn’t like predictable women, and that I wasn’t one. Yet in the end, his behavior was entirely predictable. Instead of taking responsibility, he continued to shift the blame.
His last email was well written—I’ll give him that. Maybe someone else would have found it convincing. But for me, it only confirmed what I already knew.
So I did what felt right. I stepped back, I reflected, and I wrote. I share my experiences not to convince anyone, but simply because they are mine.
The ending wasn’t dramatic. There was no big confrontation, and I’ve realized I didn’t need one. We’ve stayed in touch, but nothing we’ve said has changed how I feel.
I don’t need him to understand. I don’t need an apology.
What matters most is peace—and I have it.
Sometimes, love doesn’t fail for lack of feeling. It fails when one person cannot meet the other where they need them to be. LB liked to say he was being direct, but I’ve learned that “direct” can often be a mask for hurtful words.
“What I thought was an ending was really a return—to myself, my life, and my peace.”
PS: LB is the Love Bomber. He has the traits of someone who isn’t fully secure, yet he is a decent person. I hold no grudges. Some love stories end suddenly; others quietly fade away.
Either way, I am still me—still laughing, still living my life, unbothered and one step ahead.
Let’s face it, life is an ebb and flow. We lose relationships and gain new ones. We look through photo albums and remember how certain people were so important in our lives, yet now we have no contact with them. Doesn’t it make you sad? Of course, for some, we look for them on social media, find them, and reconnect. Others, we sigh and say Oh well, what fun it was when we were friends. For me, I totally changed my life. I left and moved to Colombia after my daughter died and found a new beginning. Some friends didn’t like that I left my son with his father, and found me to be a bad mother. To be honest, it hurt me because some of the people I respected were among them. But I do not live my life for other people’s opinions, nor for what society deems correct. I live for what makes me healthy and whole. What I did may have seemed hurtful at first, but it turned out to be a wonderful thing for my son later, when he needed to live with me here in Colombia and heal. You know, as I have said many times, the death of a child is devastating in ways no one can understand. Only those who have experienced it firsthand can comprehend. I myself have been healing for almost 15 years since she died. I think perhaps I am healed. But then, the New Year is upon us, and it will be another death anniversary where I remember her death as if it just happened. With that acknowledgement, I go to the subject at hand. What relationships have a positive impact on me?
Anyone who is authentically independent. My daughter was that way, I am that way; anyone who is focused on their own path, standing by their own choices, even when they are unpopular, is alright with me. How can we be happy in life if we live to only please others? When we decide to change to please others, we start giving away pieces of ourselves. No one should do that. As my mother always told me, “Be original, not a carbon copy!” I honor her words every single day, because anyone who knows me knows that I am who I am…good or bad, you will have an opinion of me.
I like people who are culturally aware. Those who have a need to look outside of what their world is and try to understand that others live differently. I appreciate the people around me who are intelligent enough to look beyond their own lives and realize there are other perspectives in this great big world. I live that way, so I can comment on it honestly. I am a foreigner in Colombia, which has given me more cultural awareness than I could glean from any book, fiction or nonfiction. I am so grateful I have experienced everything that I have while living here in Colombia. Some things are not so good, and some experiences are so amazing that I will die and relive them on my deathbed.
My relationships are genuine, honest, and real. I love relatable human beings. Engaging people are interesting, they laugh, they uplift others, and joy is part of their daily life. They show gratitude in life. They try not to be complainers. I chose not to complain when the worst happened to me. I still live that way. I try to wake up smiling, and it has gotten easier over the years, living in the little paradise I have created. I can speak Spanish; I am loved, and I am bold. Be bold, people! Unfortunately, today’s world is not for the meek. It is not what happens to you but how you react to it, good or bad. As I enter a New Year, I have realized that the only person who controls me is me. Those who are in my inner circle know I never stop, I cannot sit still for long because I am constantly moving. Why? I don’t know, but it is who I am, maybe it is the past trauma I experienced, and when I do relax, it is with a glass of wine. Who would ever think I would change my life so drastically, and that it would turn out okay? But it did. After almost fifteen years in Colombia, I am still finding myself, but in a good way. I wish the same for all of you!
Sometimes, when I look at this ring, my heart hurts, but I feel joy from those same memories on other days. It is the ring I gave Misha when she was four years old with her birthstone, a garnet, and tiny diamond chips. I remember her delight in having a ‘big girl ring’ and how much she loved it. I found it in a jewelry box left behind after her death. I was surprised it fit my finger, yet my mom had tiny hands, and I do too.
From this same jewelry box are gold earrings that I wear with hearts. I feel closer to her when I have something of hers touching my skin now that she is gone. She had a lot of beautiful jewelry that went missing after her death. Her roommates took her things. It caused me distress because I knew that it was a robbery. I had one say to me that she has the cross that was given to her at her first communion, again with the same birthstones, and I have seen photos of her wearing it. I was so broken at the time of her death I didn’t fight for her things and accepted these thefts. But now I wish I had them to give to my granddaughter; her baby was two years old when she died.
Amaya is 16 now. I wish a lot of things for her. I wish I had the wedding dress I married Misha’s father in. I wish I had saved more of my designer clothes for Amaya. I wish I had the christening gown I gave Misha when she was pregnant. I bought it in Ireland. These things are gone, and I don’t know where.
My mother was so good at saving things for me. I have my old Barbies and even a Skipper and Ken doll. They are worn from use as I let everyone play with them through the years. I have albums of pictures in the basement, yet I have not looked at them for years. I want to organize them, but the hurt comes back, and I suppress it by not sorting through everything. Someday I will. I know that I have a lot to say, and I need to put all of my blogs together into a book.
Old things bring back memories, and memories bring back sadness, which causes me to stifle my feelings. I know I will someday sit here and write everything down—every feeling, every memory, all of my simple thoughts, my complicated thoughts—everything. It will be cathartic. It will be an autobiography and a memorial, all in one book. It will be years of my life coming together, represented by many old things that are left behind.
Mother’s Day brings me to a dark place where I feel incomplete because Misha isn’t here. I will start putting all of my blogs together soon. I will have a name for my book: She Left to Begin Again. I will describe how I have found peace in Colombia while telling my and Misha’s stories together. I promise that is on my agenda. While I am wearing her old things, I wish she was still here with me.
Today a Long-billed Hermit hummingbird entered my office. In Colombia, I live in an open household. My doors and windows open onto covered balconies where hummingbird feeders hang. Hummingbirds often enter my living areas, but just as quickly, they leave through an open window or door. Temperatures range from around 60F to 74F, I don’t need air conditioning living in the Andes Mountains. As my day progressed, I was doing typical activities, such as filling my many hummingbird feeders, and I glanced over at my feeding tables. A beautiful Blue-crowned Mot Mot was eating a banana. I went to set out more bananas and noticed all the flowers that were blooming nearby. I had to stop to cut a beautiful red rose to bring inside.
I finished my morning chores and went upstairs to do Yoga. Listening to the sounds of the birds singing is soothing, especially when practicing Yoga. I could hear the Venezuelan Turpial singing one of its songs. They have five distinct calls and are the only birds singing while it eats. They seem to be so happy all the time. After Yoga, it is time for me to catch up with my emails and bookings at my Ecolodge here in Colombia. I view my hummingbirds and the Valle del Cauca, Colombia from my office window.
I don’t write as often as I should, so I started this blog. That isn’t a typical day for me. I have so much beauty around me that I must write down what is ordinary for me on any given day. I started this blog and went to fill the feeders again. I fill them four to five times daily; around thirteen species visit my place. The cover photo is unique and wasn’t typical when I found two juvenile siblings on the ground. I was able to have them in my hand for around five minutes. I think they thought my palm was the nest they had left. Magical moments are a normal part of my day, and this certainly was one for me.
As the day ends, I am finishing my thoughts about my typical day here in Colombia. I have my two dogs who need to be fed, more hummingbird feeders to fill, and more bananas to set out for the tropical birds, and then I study Spanish for a while. On many days I do all of this and have guests who arrive from around three to five pm. But today was simple, no guests, just me and my lovely nature that I immerse myself in. I couldn’t be happier. The sun is setting, I am watching the sky turn from blue to a shade of orange, and then it is almost dark. The decorative solar fairy lights start to illuminate in the trees and in my gardens, and balconies. All is beautiful and where I want to be on any typical day here in Colombia.
Years ago, when I was a young flight attendant for Delta Air Lines travel by plane was quite different than what became the future of the airline industry. We had to work in cigarette smoke! I remember the first 11 years of my flying career as a time when I hoped I would get lucky enough to work in the front sections of the tourist class, or in first class where the smoke wasn’t drowning my lungs and nasal passages in toxic fumes. I had always wanted to be a flight attendant, but the smoking part I did not like. Our uniforms smelled like smoke, we always felt dirty because we were serving hundreds of passengers who blew smoke right into our faces as flight attendants. Eventually, the regulations brought forth through a lot of hard work gave us smoke-free cabins. No longer did we have smoking and non-smoking sections. Second-hand smoke was real and did cause damage to anyone who inhaled it. This was proven through science and many studies. The tobacco industry was powerful but we eventually won the right to work in a clean and safe environment. Those constant lung infections I had miraculously disappeared along with the stench of cigarette smoke that would follow me to my hotel room when I would hang up my uniform.
Back in the late ’70s and early 80’s we didn’t have to go through security as we do to this day. Airport security was lax as flight crews we would show our company ID and pass by. Then many hijackings and other incidents happened, as an example, the historic day of 9/11 then everyone had to go through security. We all had to start taking our shoes off after the thwarted attempt of a would-be hijacker, and now we go through body scan machines. All of these regulations are to protect us from the people who want to harm us and cause death and destruction.
Those of us who are older remember not wearing seatbelts while driving or having car seats for infants, people could drive drunk, smoke anywhere they wanted and the list goes on. Rules were put into place for safety. We now bring our own shopping bags to the grocery store to help preserve our planet. Many have solar energy in their homes and use much less electricity, there are electric cars now. The New World Order is a progression brought forth by technology and science. Imagine a world without antibiotics, or without the wonderful doctors who have found cures for diseases that once were incurable, or those doctors that devote their lives for the vaccines that have eliminated many diseases that once were part of the human race. As an older woman, I have seen a lot in my lifetime, but I have never seen a Pandemic, nor did I think I would.
I like to think of myself as intelligent. I enjoy reading I am a great believer in science and technology. I remember when we did not have cell phones! I would get my messages on an answering machine, I would listen to music on tapes, and I even remember the 8-track tapes. When email first came out on our home computer’s life changed. We stopped using the postal mail to send out invitations in the last decade. MySpace came along, then Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Linkedin, blogging, you name it we can find it now. All of this is progress. Social media connections have taken dark turns in the past years. I was thinking of leaving Facebook I reconsidered because I have too many friendships that I cherish. However, I have unfollowed many who spread conspiracy theories and lies. I try to make my social media postings friendly, informative, and to bring the beauty of nature to those that might not know about living in another country immersed in natural surroundings. My daily life is one surprise after another which you can see in this video I took yesterday of a resting hummingbird.
Surprise can be a good thing, it can be a bad thing. I think all of us were surprised by the Coronavirus Pandemic. The cover photo of me as a twenty year old looking surprised is a memory of a lovely time in my life. Young people have so much to navigate. My time was a simpler time. There was no social media, nor competition with online social media. Raise your hand if you think what is happening is like a movie on Netflix that you never thought could happen? I am still processing what has happened to my business. I can’t imagine how you feel like a young family, a twenty-something who wants to explore and travel, a young person looking for love, a person employed in the airline industry, or if you have lost your business in the blink of an eye. What about having to homeschool your children now? I couldn’t do it when I was raising mine. Progress continues even in schooling. Everything changes, even in teaching methods from generation to generation. My business is on “hold” as all is up in the air for every person in the world. We are all so confused as the days of the week become intertwined while we become more despondent. Colombia’s Coronavirus cases continue to go up. We have borders with Brazil, Peru, and Venezuela, Panama, and Ecuador. The Amazon department Leticia near Brazil is overwhelmed.
So we need to be patient. I have found patience while living in Colombia. I don’t see that happening in the United States. I see terrible behavior by others. Please go back and read my above paragraphs about the progression of history in the world throughout different decades in this condensed blog form. Stop being selfish. Put on a mask and social distance. Young people, I get how you have no life at all right now. You are becoming infected also. As a real party animal from the 80’s I understand your frustration. My lungs have scars from working in the smoke during my first eleven years as a flight attendant. I am at risk if I contract the Coronavirus. You are too. I see the statistics that are showing younger people contracting this disease. Put on the damn masks and social distance. I would have done whatever it took to save other’s lives and my health. Stop spreading lies on social media. Some people believe them. Be a warrior for your children and future generations. Stop political rhetoric that has nothing to do with this virus. You cannot outrun a virus. It will kill you or someone in your family.
I am looking for a roommate during these uncertain times. If you are interested please contact me at my email. The cost is so reasonable and you can obtain great health insurance also.
