So what would I do, if I was told that I had only a few months to live?

Four  years ago, while I was living in Bucharest, I met an American born woman by the name of Victoria Acerra. A large woman in all sense of the word- her personality, her make-up, even her ideas were sometimes larger  than life. Victoria was extremely talented though. She was a great actress with a lot of talent and wrote better than most writers I know.

Married and divorced with a daughter of 17, Victoria had somewhat of a good and colourful  life in Bucharest. Her alimony went a long way there but there was not much to spend on in Bucharest anyway. She was part of the old expat crowd- the ones that had relocated from the UK and the US in 1991 after the downfall and assination of the diabolical Dictator Chauchescu. All hoping to make a quick buck from the rebuilding of a destraught country and its poverty stricken people. Victoria stood out like a sore thumb amongst the rest, what with her vivacious and gregarious character.

To give you a 'taste' of her colourful persona, she once spat and bit at a man in a bar whom she had a distaste for (excuse the pun). I am uncertain of what he had said, but that was the way Victoria was. So you either admired her for her outspokenness and crazy antics or you ran a mile away when you saw her.

I was always fascinated with Victoria. Simply because I am by nature, always interested in the way people's minds work and knowing how to adapt myself to different people, places and scenarios. My belief is that, you cannot change a person but you can change or adjust yourself- your mores, beliefs and your ideas. And one can also hope that some of your goodness will rub off onto them.

Now one morning, Victoria and her daughter left their home during rush hour because Victoria had to be somewhere to write a script. So they hopped into their jalopy and were soon first in line to wait at a railway crossing. Soon, cars were waiting on both sides of the railway line.  Remember, this is Bucharest, it is not war-torn but roads are rough and things don't always work. In fact the barrier that separated the railway track and the road was a wee shorter than usual.  Some time went by. Victoria waited. An old slow train chugged by. The barrier remained where it was - down. 

Victoria waited some more, growing more and more impatient. No train came. So Victoria decided to spit and bite and accelerated at speed through the gap that the barrier didn't completely cover.

The on-coming train Victoria never saw, spat and bit back.

Since then, everyday has been the last day of my life. There is no tomorrow.

So what would I do if I was told that I had a few months to live?

Why, the same as yesterday.
      

                                 VICTORIA ACERRA
                              19.10.1956 - 31.05.2004

                                                   EDEN DODD
                          04.08.1985 - 31.05.2004

Rest in Peace, dear Victoria - dear Eden.