About Maria Florkiewicz

I’m a firm believer that your past shapes your future. However, it doesn’t define who you are. I feel that adversity can make you even stronger.

Life always had a way of slapping me around when I least expected it, and before I could catch my breath, I was headed in another direction where whole new experiences awaited me. Some I welcomed with opened arms and others I tried enduring with grit and perseverance.

For me, writing is a balm that soothes my soul. In many ways it sets me free from all the pain. I write for freedom. I write for all the victims, and most of all I write for me. My writing reflects my experiences in life. Are they unique to the world, not at all?  Some childhood memories are so vivid to me that I remember every horrific detail, and yet humor has become a constant in my life. In college I lived in an apartment with five other girls. We had many a night of high drama that was interspersed with humor, and when I think about that time the corners of my mouth involuntarily turn upwards. It was “a coming of age,” for me.

I developed a straight forward approach with a touch of humor that suited me well all those years I taught teens. And, of course, grit and humor kept me married to an airborne ranger for a lot of years. It was challenging.

My first novel Unbreakable Determination is featured on my website. It’s a story about a twelve-year-old girl’s survival and struggle as she fights for a better life, and the sequel to Vi’s storming struggles is in the works. I don’t have a title for my second book, yet.

As a child I don’t remember going anywhere. The tristate area of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York was my domain, and I hardly even remember venturing out of my home state of Pennsylvania, except for moving to New York City for three years where my life turned a major corner. I began to have doubts about my future just adding more turmoil to my already troubled thirteen-year-old soul. I needed to cope. So, I found a safe place inside my head where I became preoccupied with my own thoughts and even disconnected with the world at times. A place for my thoughts, and at that time simple goals.

After graduating college I flew to Germany, the first summer, California the second summer and the third summer I flew to Italy to visit a childhood friend. Her husband was stationed at the NATO base in Italy, and so that is how Tom and I met. We married a year later, and an exciting new life opened up for me. Tourists go to Italy looking for culture, but I was living it. Our first apartment as a married couple was in Lago Patria, Italy overlooking Lake Patria. My life was one long dream vacation. I got a teaching position at JFK American school of Naples, which housed Americans, Greek, Turks and British students, an experience I value even to this day. Living in Italy is definitely different from living in the United States. For one, Italians work to live as compared to Americans who live to work. They eat with and live for family. They love to serve and please. Italians never hurry, and most stores close down between the hours of one to five, quite a comparable difference to the States, with late night closings, or even stores staying open for twenty-four-seven. Even though Italians have a slower pace of living that does not account for driving. The attitude: You need to watch out for me.  Passing occurs at any time, and passing zones are usually ignored. Driving is a challenge in Italy, and the key to making it easier is to rent a smaller, more maneuverable car because it’s easier to navigate Italy’s narrow city streets along with navigating those alleyways.

Tom lived in Italy a total of five years with the military; and, me about two, and I still wasn’t ready to come back to the states. The Amalfi coast is the famous coastline in Southern Italy. It overlooks the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Gulf of Salerno. We were young and brave when we rode those mountainous curving roads on a motorcycle, and the view was one of breathtaking beauty.

Roccaraso, another town in central Italy is well known for its ski resort, and a place we frequented often.

I learned to shoot a four-ten shot gun at Carnie Park which is now located in Lago Patria, Italy. It’s a ninety-six acre recreation area, and what makes this park unique in its own right is that it is located within an extinct volcano crater. It is also a United States military recreational facility and had a gun range.  This is where I started shooting skeet and trap with my four- ten. I was asked to join the ladies skeet and trap team, but we were rotating back to the states, so a disappointed me had to decline. Tom was accepted to OCS, so off to Fort Benning, Georgia we went and on to another exciting chapter to our life.

After Benning, we were stationed in Germany for three years. I found Germans to be highly efficient and matter of fact people. They’re reserved, but also can be friendly. They value rules, order, especially punctuality, unlike the Italians. And yet, I enjoyed every aspect of the culture. My first rappelling off a 30 foot wall was in Germany. Going off the edge was a challenge I will never forget. We skied the Zugspitze, and at 9,718 feet above sea level, it’s the highest mountain in Germany, and south of the town is Garmisch, another ski resort.

I can’t seem to get enough of Italian culture, so we visited Italy in November of 2023. We were in Rome for three days.  I checked off an item on my bucket list when I threw a coin in the Tevi fountain and saw the colosseum.  It was easy to get around Rome, especially with the buses, taxis, and subways, very similar to NYC. Tom experienced his first subway ride, definitely exciting. We drove down to Naples wanting to see the apartment we lived in those many years ago in Lago Patria. It appeared that the alley way we used to get to the apartment was blocked off.  Disappointed but determined we headed right to those mountainous roads that lead to Roseto Valfortore. Peacefulness settled over me as we rolled into the village that is neatly nestled in the mountains. We spent a good week in this village where my paternal grandparents emigrated from. This is a place, in some ways Utopia still exists. Roseto Pennsylvania, my home town, was established in 1912 by immigrants from this quaint old village and where the cobble stone roads date back to the Roman era.  These humble immigrants came to America and based on their values and hard work established a good life in a new country, which was not easy.

My time in Roseto Valfortore Italy last year prompted me to write an article about the village, the people and where my ancestors are from. I called it, “The Lost Daughter.” This article is featured on my website.   It is going to be published in the magazine in Roseto Valfortore in Italian and in English. We’re going back to Italy at the end of July, and I’m planning on writing another article, especially on the festival which also occurs in Roseto Pennsylvania around the same time.

Yep! Life on a farm. April 21^st of 2024 started like any other night. I fed the horses, locked Majeco in so he can eat peacefully. Each horse got their bucket load of hay in their stall and there is also a round role under a shelter in the pasture. Majeco was let out an hour and a half later. All was right with the world. Kissed my horses good night and retired for the night, which I thought was going to be peaceful.

              Then, at exactly at 11:34 P.M. Tom got up to check on a noise he heard and yelled for me to call 911.

I jumped up and stared. Gut wrenching fear momentarily froze me. I blinked. This has to be a dream. This was no dream. Our barn, the one we put so much blood, sweat and tears into was totally engulfed in flames. I called 911, and they came with sirens blaring, lights flashing, and of course an ambulance. It was a scene out of a movie. Unfortunately, this was no movie scene. Something as simple as a leaking golf cart battery caused all this devastation. I can’t explain what I felt as I watched the barn burn. The trauma, the emotional pain burrowed a deep hole in my soul. Thank-God, I don’t believe in locking our horses in at night. I saw one in the left pasture. Where were the other two? I ran down the pasture and called for Majeco, and he came with Kiowa dead on his heels.  Majeco stiffened and sniffed smoke. He stopped! I knew he wanted to come, but I also knew the smoke bothered him, after all the weather station stopped working at 112 degrees. I walked down and checked them out. They were okay. We caught the fire within 10 minutes of starting, and it was still too late to salvage anything.

The day, of which both of us didn’t sleep a wink, we walked out the back and devastation stared us in the face. The horses were confused, but they were okay. Kiowa was frantic because he needed to eat, but where was his stall? I’m sure Kiowa was afraid he might not be fed again. There’s a reason why  we call him “Starvin Marvin,” My new feeding routine is not as quick, but it works for now. Although, Kiowa whinnies letting me know he thinks the service needs to be faster. I’m so grateful, so I can breathe a little easier that my horses are all alive and kicking.

This wasn’t a slap, but a punch in the gut. It’s been two weeks and as the ashes cooled we were able to walk through the ruins going down memory lane of what was, and is definitely no more. I wish I could say I’m okay, but I’m not. I will be. I don’t know why, but there is always a reason why things happen the way they do. Someday I will have the answer. Right now, I’m dealing with a litany of emotions, shock, anger, depression, and even hopelessness runs deep, top that with a lot of impatience because I want everything fixed like yesterday. I live in the real world, so I know that’s not going to happen. Tears cloud my eyes everyday as I still have to look at that catastrophic loss, and my overactive mind starts wondering why? I won’t go there! My perfect haven is destroyed. That’s it! Life isn’t perfection. Is it? I’m going to end on a positive note. We all escaped unscathed, even my four-legged family.  I have to dig deeper to find my grit and perseverance, but I’ll find it.