I circled the old white house and frantically searched for a FedEx truck or any sign of delivery. Handwritten notes that I scrawled that morning were strategically placed above door knobs and entry ways. Each one directing the mail man to my apartment unit in case he couldn’t find it too easily and gave up prematurely.
Last time I had an important package I waited until an email announcing that I wasn’t there hit my inbox, at which point, I had to chase the package across Los Angeles in a rampage fuelled by rage and surging Uber rates that I can’t afford.
This time, I took every precaution. I woke up before day break and drank two entire pots of strong coffee. I couldn’t eat and I felt sick. I stopped pacing around the house and began to give up past noon- I had been waiting nearly 6 hours and had just about given up. Maybe the package wouldn’t arrive until after my 4pm work shift afterall.
I called Nat, angry and exasperated… and threw myself into my bed in tears like a brat child that didn’t get any gifts for Christmas. At that moment, I heard heavy footsteps and the familiar jangle of keys that follow in unison. I jumped up and stared wide eyed at the delivery man while he trudged up the stairs in the sweltering heat. He chuckled and asked if I was waiting for this package. I nearly cried but maintained a sense of dignity and shook my head up and down nervously.
Nat and I were already on the phone so I asked him if he’d prefer to video chat so we could see the final verdict of immigration on paper together. I bawled in both relief and anger that the process took so long. Nat trembled in disbelief atop the grass at Holland Park. We finally did it.
My immigration application finally bypassed the incessant scrutiny of our lawyer. I’ve finally been accepted as a resident of the UK. This means that I can live, work and open a business and no longer have to pick up and leave every 6 months due to visa expiration.
After circling the planet on a shoestring budget and visa hopping with my husband to avoid separation due to the UK’s strict visa laws, we’ve finally been granted the right to live in the same country.
We can start our lives together and seek stability after years of not having answers and waiting this out far too long. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him and we’ve been separated for a year and a half. I left London in January 2017 and I’m flying back June 4th. It’s 2018 now- it’s about time!