Love at First Sight is Real

As a young girl, I knew I was a bit different. I always marched to the beat of my own drum. Deep down, I had a feeling that I had been here before. Childhood adventures bored me. Parents talking to me like I was a baby infuriated me. I felt like I knew it all and couldn't wait to grow up. Maybe I had lived before and this lifetime was just a nanosecond in an ongoing adventure? There was a wisdom that I had and I knew that it came from somewhere unexplained, another realm, a different time, possibly in another galaxy. I was a spiritual being from a very young age and I understood concepts that even adults couldn't comprehend.

Being an Aries, a number One in Numerology and a Tiger in Chinese Astrology was a big factor for me also and made me a formidable child and one who did not like taking orders from anyone. My parents could not dictate anything to me. I was not a bad child, but as stubborn as they come and if I didn't want to do something, there was no way I'd submit. That carried over into adulthood and led me to amazing discoveries and adventures that few people would experience in a lifetime.

Looking back now, I recognized that I had a special 'gift'. I was able to manifest and attract what I needed when I needed it just through sheer willpower and active daydreaming. I ALWAYS listened to my intuition and came to know it as my 'guardian angel'. I was in tune to this 'voice' as they whispered in my ear and guided me through this amazing journey called life.

As I grew into a young woman, after completing college as an interior design major and moving away from my small home town near Pittsburgh to Florida, I began my search for something more. During this time, I whiled away the nights partying and dancing in the South Florida clubs and worked two jobs during the days, as a novice interior designer and a waitress in a busy restaurant in Ft. Lauderdale. This was in the heyday of Spring Break in Florida in the 80's and in the tail end of the disco era. Needless to say, I was having a blast! But I always had the feeling that something was missing.

I started hearing the 'voice' loud and clear, urging me to start learning about metaphysics and spirituality. I was a voracious reader and got every book I could find on alternative concepts of religion and spirituality, from creative visualization to past lives and even the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I grew up a Catholic, and being from an Italian family, this was a given. It never resonated with me and being the skeptical kid that I was, never felt like it made any sense. I absolutely hated going to church and classes to get my confirmation. My mother had to literally force me out of bed and dragged me into the church, with me bitching and moaning the entire time. Why did I have to talk to God through a priest, especially one tucked inside a scary box behind a dark curtain? It always struck me as being ridiculous, even as a little girl.

As my 20's rolled on, I started making some money from my two jobs and even had even saved up enough to buy a condo. I had always dreamed of going to Europe, so my first trip at 22, was a round trip tour of Europe. Eleven countries in 13 days. I went by myself and had the security of the group so it was great and quite safe. I had a fantastic time and loved every minute of it. It was everything I had imagined and more. From that moment on, I had the travel bug. I immediately started planning my next trip upon my return from this one. Wanderlust had taken hold of me and to this day, it has never waned.

The next trip I took, the following year, was to Greece. I had learned enough in my previous tour to give me enough confidence that I could go it alone this time, with no tour group as my safety blanket. I planned on visiting as many Greek Islands as I could in my two week vacation that I was allowed from my jobs. The only thing was, I could not go to the various islands by ferry which was the common and cheapest way to go. To save time, I went by plane and had to make several pit stops back in Athens to jump to one of the many islands I planned to visit.

On one of my stops, I had a five hour layover and decided to take a side trip the see the Parthenon. It was just a short bus ride from the airport on the outskirts of Athens. I put my suitcases in storage and hopped on the first bus I saw and asked out loud in English to anyone who would listen, if this indeed was the bus to the Parthenon. A young, strapping guy answered me right away. He had on a military uniform and had just gotten off work as a security guard at the airport. During this time, there were the occasional threats of terrorism in Greece and the airports had high security even back then. He said that he spoke English and lived near the area and would accompany me and show me the way. He did just that, even paying my way into the Parthenon. His name was Nicos and he would eventually become my friend, meeting me every time I stopped back into Athens to catch my next flight to one of the islands. It's possible that he wanted more than a friendship, and he was actually quite attractive, but I knew that it would be inconvenient to strike up a relationship with him, as I didn't have much time and I was on a mission to see the Greek Islands without any hindrances.

On one of my layovers and one that would determine my whole future and lay out the ground work for my entire life, I once again met Nicos and we went to a coffee shop near the beach just near the Athens airport. As we sat drinking coffee, a gypsy approached me, an old woman, complete with babushka, bangled arms, and tattered dress. She looked like something out of central casting and I was very intrigued by her. She started to talk and Nicos shooed her away. He probably thought I would be alarmed and was doing me a favor by getting rid of her. It was common knowledge while traveling, to avoid the gypsies at all costs otherwise your dream vacation would turn into somewhat of a nightmare, with having all your money swiped without even realizing it. Later on, during my travels in Europe, this indeed happened to me, not once but twice, with gypsies absconding with my wallet on a trip to the Colosseum in Rome and another time, taking all my belongings from my car while parked outside of a pensione, also in Rome. I'll save those stories for another time!

In any event, I disregarded Nicos good intentions and decided to hear what the gypsy wanted to tell me. I found her just sitting patiently around the corner (she somehow knew that I would be back), gave her 5,000 drachmas, which was a few bucks at that time and she started to speak. She spoke in Greek, but Nicos translated. She told me: "years from now, you'll go far from where you live now (which was Ft Lauderdale), it will be the best thing you will ever do in your life and it will affect you for the rest of your life." She also said, with her finger pointed to the sky, "remember the name, Juergen for he is the "ONE"! He is the one you will marry!!" I heard her say "Juergen" and thought that was odd. It sounded German and I even said at the time, I will NEVER go to Germany! It was definitely not on my list of countries that I was dying to visit. Since I had just started traveling, my intentions were to go to every warm weathered country out there, Spain, Italy, Portugal, France but never Germany! It was too much like the dreary and cold place I'd left behind in Pennsylvania years earlier. We all know that saying "Never say never"! It had new meaning as I would soon come to find out.

So I continued on my trip through the Greek Islands, visiting all the cliche spots I had read about, such as Mykonos, Santorini, Ios, Paros and Corfu. Needless to say, I had the time of my life. I hooked up with an American guy, James, while on one of my puddle jumper planes to Santorini and we decided to hang out and find a bed and breakfast together to share in the costs. At that time, the place we stayed was about $25 for an idyllic villa in the little village of Oia, perched high above on a cliff, overlooking the bright blue sea (which was the inspiration behind the recognizable blue roofs of Santorini), and as rumor has it, the famed city of Atlantis, which is said to be buried in the waters surrounding Santorini. Today that same villa would be unaffordable. Together, James and I tooled around the island on a moped with me hanging on for dear life on the back, going to one of the many beaches during the day and partying till dawn every night at each of the popular outdoor discos, blaring dance music well into the wee hours with only the stars as a roof. We met travelers from all over the globe, carefree and fun loving Australians, Brits who loved to imbibe in anything alcoholic, Europeans from Poland, Germany, and France and more Americans like James and I, to name a few. I hated to leave and vowed that I'd return some day. I had to return to reality and that was just not sitting right with me.

That trip was a turning point for me. When I came home, I was in a bit of a slump. I yearned to be free. The daily grind was getting to me and I started getting antsy. I was dreaming of doing something crazy, to travel around Europe with just my backpack, like many of the young travelers I had seen in Greece. I figured that if they could do it, then so could I. I was brave, adventurous, smart, with a keen intuition (guardians) which would help guide me along the way. The wanderlust was kicking in and it started to beckon me. I started hearing a small voice in my head urging me to move to Europe. For years I heard the voice. As time went on, the voice became louder. And louder! I was becoming more and more unhappy and restless. They guys I was dating were all losers, my job was becoming unfulfilling, partying became boring. I felt that I was missing something and just had to go out and find it!

Little did I know, that I would find what I was looking for, but it would require a journey to find myself along the way.

So after some years had passed and as I was approaching my 28th birthday, I finally decided to take the plunge. I planned to move to Italy to learn Italian and the only way I could do that was to spend a good amount of time there, to fully immerse myself in the language of my forefathers. As a second generation Italian American, I felt it was important to get back to my roots. My grandparents forbid their children to speak Italian outside of the home so that they would assimilate into the country and culture that had given them so much. My father knew and could speak some broken Italian and never taught me or my brother or sister a word of it. We only heard bits and pieces from my grandparents, on both sides, who had risked it all to come to America. I felt that I needed to honor them and their sacrifice and learn the language of my heritage.

So while I sat on the beach in Florida, I studied my Italian with books and tapes. I bought the International Herald Tribune to scan the wants ads for possible jobs overseas. I bought books on how to live and work in Europe as an American. And started visualizing how I could pull this all off. What would I do with all my stuff, my condo, my job. How could I support myself in Europe? How much money could I save? What about my student loan? How was I going to get there and what would I do when I arrived? I imagined every detail in my head and pictured myself in certain situations and how I would handle them. The internet was not a thing at that time and I had to do my research the old fashioned way which makes it even more crazy that I managed to actually do all of it and survived and thrived while away. It was a testament to my willpower, determination and courage.

Finally, I set a date. I put all my belongings into storage and had everything put into numbered boxes, with me keeping a list of what was in each box, in the event that I needed something while I was away. I gave the key to my storage unit to my best friend, Mark, and put him in charge if I needed something sent overseas. I rented out my condo to two girlfriends, quit my job (I told my boss that I would be back in 6 months and if he still wanted me to come back afterwards, I would), and told all my friends and family that I was moving to Italy for six months. I booked a one way ticket to Amsterdam, the only flight I could take that allowed me to do it one way and the cheapest way. I had no idea when I would return and wanted to leave that open. Upon arrival, my plan was to take a train from Amsterdam to Rome and find a room to rent and a job to tide me over. I had read that the English bookstore in Rome was the place to go find both so that was to be my first stop once I arrived there.

But before I left for Amsterdam, I went to a cruise ship show in Miami with my old boss. We decided to hang out one last time before I left for Europe. This is one of those moments that I attribute to me being able to 'manifest' and use the laws of attraction. While at the show, we met a German man by the name of Diethard, who was sitting at one of the booths with fabrics that were manufactured for cruise ships. Since I was now in the fabric business, having left interior design to become a fabric sales rep, it was interesting for me to talk to this man. It turned out that he owned a textile mill in Germany. I hit it off with him as he was very interesting and we shared our love of fabrics. I told him my plans and he immediately offered me to come and work for a few weeks in the design department of his mill, helping the designers with the colors for the American market, before I moved on to Rome. I couldn't believe his offer and told him straight away that I would love to do that! Suddenly things were starting to fall into place! Once I had decided to step out of my comfort zone and make the leap into the unknown, the universe started to spin it's magic!

My previous plans suddenly became obsolete. I was ready to just 'go with the flow' and this would be my mantra from that point on.

I finally said goodbye to all my friends and family and set out on my adventure. I took that one way flight to Amsterdam and hoped for the best. I managed to make my way to Germany and met Diethard there in the small town where the factory was situated. He was a man of his word, as I would come to find out about him and Germans in particular. They were tough to get to know and were quite the skeptical bunch initially but once you got to know them, they were your friends for life and their word was their bond.

Diethard put me up in his daughter's room while she was away at college and took me to the mill where my journey would start. Initially it was only supposed to be a two week gig, but ended up being a year long adventure. I was doing so well at my job, being a consultant for the American market, advising on the colors and patterns that the designers there in the mill would make, that Deithard ended up getting me an apartment in the basement of a nice German family's home and gave me a contract to continue working in the mill for a year's assignment.

So I lived and worked in Germany for a year, in the small town of Goeppingen, just south of Stuttgart. The fact that I was in Germany was not lost on me. I wondered about what the gypsy had said years earlier and here I was, living in a place I never thought I'd be, Germany! Remember that saying "never say never'? I made it a point to look out for any men named Juergen. During that entire time, I didn't meet him. So I just fluffed it off thinking that the gypsy made a mistake. I met a Johan, a Jorg, a Jochan, and a few other men with the letter J at the beginning, but never a Juergen, which is actually a quite common name there. None of these men made any sort of impression on me so I didn't think about it too much.

So at times living there, it was lonely and I wondered what I was doing. I spent the long, cold winter days reading every English newspaper I could find to to pass the time. TV was a bust, with me having only two channels in my basement apartment and they were in German which at that time, I didn't understand a word. I eventually bought an old car which cost me the equivalent of $500. I drove around the town and surrounding areas, even venturing out onto the Autobahn which was an experience in itself. I found a fun bar and made that my go to hangout on weekends. It took awhile to make friends there which was odd for me. I had always been very outgoing and friendly and never had any problems making new friends. But those Germans were a hard nut to crack. They just didn't let anyone in until they were sure they could trust you. My American openness put them off just a bit. Eventually, though, I managed to find some fun, young friends, who loving travel as much as me, hit it off. They are still my friends to this day.

After my contract at the mill was up, I decided to finally go to Rome. That was my initial plan anyway and I just wouldn't feel right returning to America without fulfilling that part of my destiny. During my time in Germany, when there were holidays and weeks off of work, I had made several hair raising trips to Italy just to explore. I ventured over the sometimes, snow covered Alps, driving along the winding roads high up in the mountains in the darkness, with powerful BMW's and Mercedes right on my tail, pushing me to go a little faster. They often flashed their lights at me to get a move on, but my little car had its limitations and I just meandered along, as fast as was comfortable. Those impatient assholes just had to wait until an opportunity to pass came along, then they wizzed right by me, leaving me in the dust. I made it safely to both Florence and Rome on several occasions. As I look back on it now, I'm sure my guardian angels were there with me, as it's hard to believe that I survived with only having the incidents with the gypsies being the only bad things that happened to me. Once I was done with my job in Germany, I made a trip which would be my last trip South, to find out what was in store for me in Rome.

When I arrived in Rome, my first stop was that English book store. Everything was going as I had planned. I quickly found a room (which was actually a closet) in an old villa owned by a single, older woman. There was just enough room with a single mattress, which lay against the wall on the floor, and about a foot around the remaining three sides of the bed, for my stuff. Needless to say, I was completely uncomfortable and didn't stay there long. I ended up back at the English bookstore and found a spacious room on the outskirts of the city, in an apartment with several other expats from Germany, Serbia and the U.S. I then found a job, as a 'bus boy' in a pizzeria, working under the table, with other foreigners who were also working 'black'. That was a grueling job. I'm not one to complain about unfair conditions and hard work but this job was ridiculous. I started at 4:00, promptly put to work polishing all the brass railings in the place, then once the customers started to stream in, had to carry large, heavy ceramic pizza plates, sometimes 10 at a time, back to the kitchen. The restaurant was open until 3:00 am and during the late hours, the unruly, and often drunken customers, would throw pistachio shells all over the floor. My job was to pick them up! And the final insult was having to polish the brass again before I left to go home for a few hours of sleep before returning the next afternoon, only to have to polish the brass when I arrived again the next day. Mind you, nobody was in the restaurant during the daytime, so polishing the brass was redundant. After a week, I had the entire restaurant in a revolt. I became the de-facto employee representative and had the other employees, who were being exploited, ready to quit with me. I told the manager that I was not his 'schiava' (slave in Italian) and I was quitting. He begged me to stay and even offered me more money but I wasn't having it.

I eventually found another job in an Irish pub right off the Via Veneto. It was perfect in that I didn't need to speak Italian to work there and it only served beer so it wouldn't be that complicated. It was a dump and I spent days cleaning all three floors including the urine soaked bathroom in the basement. The owner was a bit of a slob himself and ended up being a real cheap skate. So I spruced the place up and waited for customers. Nobody came. Using my ingenuity and creativeness, I quickly had a plan to attract customers. I went to Piazza Navona and offered the street performers to come the bar where I'd give them free beer, a roof above their head (instead of performing outside in all kinds of weather) and tips from the customers. They did show up and within weeks, I had people streaming into the bar, even so crowded that they were spilling out onto the street. The pub became a roaring success! Things were humming along just fine until I went by the bar during the day and ended up parking in a spot where I got a boot put on my wheel. It was going to cost me $300 to get it off and I didn't have the money to pay it. The cheap ass owner refused to help me, so once again I found myself unemployed. I promptly quit and decided to lay low for a little while. During this time, I ended up meeting a guy named Sergio, who eventually became my 'somewhat' boyfriend. He paid the bill to get the boot taken off. I didn't really like Sergio that much and basically used him (which was not really my style) to help me in this period of uncertainty. He had a shoe repair place with his family and I started working there with them. Sergio hung on to me even as I semi-abused him. I told him that I didn't love him and if he thought he was going to score a green card off of me, he was sadly mistaken. I was up front with him from the beginning but it never derailed poor Sergio from wanting to be with me. I think he actually enjoyed being put down and the more he was submissive, the meaner I got. He brought out the worst in me and I had to get away.

Luckily for me, some time had gone by and it was now almost a year since I was living in Rome. My father had been sending me money the entire time to help me while I was there, even though I never asked for it. I was SO glad he did though. I don't know what I would have done without his help. That and the help that Sergio foisted upon me, regardless of how I treated him. He would cook absolutely delicious homemade meals for me and bring them to me by moped to the pub every night. I never turned these dinners down! He took me to the best restaurants in town, indulged me by letting me design belts and purses in his shoe repair shop. My American initiative started a whole new venture for his family in their decades old shop. I helped repair shoes, working on a machine that ground down heels, made leather belts with golden embellishments, redesigned the front window and gave the family a kind of new beginning for them. Sergio's mother absolutely adored me. With me there, the business was booming. I even had them change their working hours. After a month of eating gigantic meals and sleeping for 4 hours afterwards during their lunchtime siesta, I decided that having a panini was good enough for me and I was going to stay in the shop and get some work done. Well the entire family followed suit and we all ended up in the shop during the afternoons.

But I knew my time in Rome was coming to an end. My father implored me to come back. The girls were moving out of my condo and he was tired of sending me money. Sergio was getting on my last nerve and I just had to escape somehow. I finally decided to go back up to Germany to get rid of my car and say one last goodbye to the friends I had made there. I told Sergio that I was leaving and he helped me pack up my car. It was filled to the roof with stuff I'd accumulated in my time in Europe. I had had my friend, Mark, who I mentioned earlier, send me my winter coats, sweaters, and anything else that I needed while I was away for nearly two years so I had quite a lot of stuff. I even found an old steamer trunk on the side of the street in downtown Rome and refurbished it in Sergio's shop. That was sticking out the back of my hatchback of my car and we had to secure it with rope, hoping that the gypsies wouldn't capitalize on this as we made our way north towards Germany. We would have to stop somewhere along the way and my car would be practically wide open for the night due the the hatchback not closing completely.

So I said my goodbyes to Sergio's family in Rome, loaded up my last remaining belongings and set off with Sergio. The car ended up unscathed from thieves and we continued until we reached the Austrian/Italian border. I dropped Sergio off at the train station there and waved goodbye. I never saw him again. Poor Sergio. To this day, I don't know what ever happened to him. All I know is that I was totally relieved to finally be free of him. As I said before, he had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in me and my treatment of him is something that I'm not proud of.

So after a few more adventures driving alone on the last leg of my journey back to Germany, (the notorious Swiss are involved and their total lack of empathy and sense of humor) I finally arrived. I had made plans to stay at my friend's house, a German woman named Eve, who was married to an American GI who was stationed in Germany for the military. They had been some of the only people to invite me to their home on the weekends as I had nowhere else to go and I quickly bonded with them during my time in Germany. I also wanted to see a guy who I'd dated towards the end of my time previously in Germany. He was a gorgeous, albeit very young, Greek guy named Kostas. At the time, I was 30 and he was 20. I was a 'cougar' way before it became fashionable! We had kept in touch while I was in Italy and wanted to see each other before I left.

On my last night in Germany, Kostas told me that he was going to a party. I asked if I could go with him and he told me no! There's a thing in the Greek community where they aren't too fond out 'outsiders' and I was not Greek so I would not fit in. He implied that I wouldn't be welcome there. I think Kostas had another girl on the side too that he didn't want me to bump into. Fair is fair. I was no angel while I was in Italy so I couldn't fault him. In the meantime, I was invited to another party with a male friend, Jochen, another one of those "J" names who meant nothing to me besides being a friend. It was being held in a small village in a Porche dealership that had been cleared out for the evening near the town I was living. So I went with Jochen to the party. Kostas and I agreed to meet back after each of our respective parties and he would buy my old car and take me to the airport the next morning.

The party was going to be my last hurrah in Europe. I was just going to stay out all night, see Kostas one last time and just get on the plane the next morning and sleep the entire way back home.

At around midnight, Jochen told me that he didn't feel well and was going to leave. I was having a good time, and told him that I would just stay. I managed to be alone for almost two years while in Europe and I would be fine for a few more hours at this party. I had my own car and would make my way back to Eve's house to gather my suitcases and meet Kostas.

The party was really hitting its stride at the time Jochen decided to leave. The techno music was pumping and I was having a blast dancing by myself on the dance floor. All of a sudden, I look across the room and there is a very handsome guy smiling at me! Our eyes met and we were instantly attracted to each other. That's what you call "love at first sight". Boom! We were locked on, never losing eye contact. He danced his way over to me and it seemed that everything and everybody just disappeared in the room. There seemed to be some strange kind of glow surrounding us as well. All I know is that I was instantly in love. It hit me in a nanosecond. And I knew it did for him as well.

We danced closer and closer together and finally made our way to the side of the room. He was smiling at the me the entire time and I was too. It was just magical. Over the throng of the music, I told him my name, Rachelle. Then he told me his. He said "My name is Juergen" and I almost fell over! THAT was the name the gypsy had told me many years before! And here he was in the flesh! On my last night in Europe after being there for two years! Our paths had crossed the night before but didn't meet then, (we found out later on after talking about it), in the bar that I would often go to in the small town where I lived. His best friend Olaf, who was one of the first people to talk to me when I arrived in town was there. Olaf was a bit of a flirt and also loved to travel so we quickly became friends. Juergen and Olaf had been in that bar the night before party but we weren't destined to meet quite yet.

Olaf and Juergen were childhood buddies. When Olaf's parents got divorced, Olaf had moved when he was a teenager to the town where I had lived. Juergen lived two hours away and was invited by Olaf to this party where we would meet. He would only go visit Olaf maybe twice a year and this was one of the times. It was all meant to be. My guardian angels had been working overtime trying to get us to meet and with only hours to spare, it happened.

Shortly after Juergen told me his name, I told him in English, that I was supposed to marry a man named Juergen. He barely spoke English himself but he understood what I said and it didn't faze him at all. I told him the best I could about the gypsy and what she had told me years ago. By then, I had learned a little German and managed to get my story across. We just sat next to each other on a table on the side of the room and stared into each others eyes. I couldn't believe this was all happening. This is the kind of thing that only happens in the movies and here it was, actually happening to me, in real life!

The party continued on and Juergen and I made our way to my car to be alone for the short time I had left. We hugged and kissed and nothing more. I touched his arm and felt that I had been searching for him for lifetimes. Maybe we had known each other another life? That's how it felt. It was all so surreal. Our souls seemed to know each other and were finally reconnecting. I had never in my life felt anything like this and I had had quite a few boyfriends in my day. I even thought I had been in love a few times. But nothing was ever like this. Time and space just melted away. We were totally in love.

Suddenly the realization came that I had to leave in a few hours. I was devastated. I had spent the last two years here in Europe and finally I met the love of my life! And now I would have to leave him. I don't know what was worse, thinking that I met him and would never see him again or having the feeling that someone was out there for me but never meeting him at all.

After some time, the sky was beginning to turn light. We kissed our last kiss and hugged our last hug. Juergen sadly got out of my car to return to the party and I had to leave. I looked at him out of the rear view mirror as I drove away into the sunrise. It was horrible. I went back to Eve's house and there was Kostas, sleeping in his car. When he heard me coming, he woke up with a very perturbed look on his face. He had been waiting for me for hours and I had frankly forgotten all about him. I quickly diverted the conversation to the fact that he didn't want me to go to his party, so I made a point to enjoy mine! He didn't protest to much. What was the point? I was leaving soon and had to get going.

I told Eve before I left that I met my soul mate and Juergen had told Olaf that he too, had met the love of his life. We were two star crossed lovers whose story was just beginning.

So you're probably wondering what every happened to us?

We carried on a long distance romance for about a year and a half with each of us going back and forth. I was determined to see Juergen again and managed to find a way to go back to Germany (where I ended up landing my dream job as an agent selling European textiles in the U.S.) and Juergen finally quit his life in Germany and decided to move to the States. He was 23 and I was 31 when we met so he was just so young. I promised to take care of him and help him adjust to this new country.

We were eventually married. Juergen caught the garter belt at a friend's wedding and proposed to me in the swimming pool at my other friends house that night. We were married for 23 years and have two gorgeous sons together, Luca and Adriano. Luckily I just made the cut to have kids and was 36 when I had my first and 41 when I had my second.

Sadly, after all the years, we decided to call it quits. We grew apart. Juergen grew up and changed. I grew older and also changed. Life had taken its toll on us and we decided to part ways. We were divorced in 2020 and still maintain a very good relationship. He has moved on with another woman and I am on my own. I prefer to keep it that way. We are still soul mates and I speak with him almost daily. When I had a terrible bout of kidney stones, he was there for me, driving me to the doctor and bringing me home, making me something to eat and getting my medications. I invite him for Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner and we even stay with each other at my youngest son's baseball tournaments. We are family and are forever going to be in each other's lives.

The moral of the story is that love at first sight is real and although circumstances change and life changes, some things will always endure and the love that Juergen and I have will last until we are both in our graves. Perhaps we fulfilled a karmic debt that was finally played out? Have we resolved whatever it was that was meant to be resolved? Is this the last lifetime that Juergen and I will be together? One will never know.

I always like to think that fate and my guardian angels got Juergen and I together and I don't think my story is finished. I still believe in the laws of attraction and try to teach my kids the meaning of it all. I tell them to 'go with the flow" and see where the wind takes them. Follow their passions and be aware of the clues that come their way. Find true love and don't settle. Have a family and love them unconditionally. The meaning of life is to love and I am fortunate that I was able to find mine. I hope that my story can inspire others to find theirs too!