Yesterday I was officially greencard approved. And to think that six years ago to the week, my now husband and I first met at a toga party. I was a newly transferred sophomore to a much bigger University than I was accustomed to, living in my first apartment, and I was very unhappy. I was healing from three back fractures, and an uncomfortable amount of weight gain because of it, an abusive ex-high school boyfriend who even from miles away was making my life a hell and the sense of confusion that comes with not knowing what you want to do with your life. Yet by some divine power from above, Andrew appeared that night, marking the second time I had seen him around our complex, and for the next four months he patiently became my friend; someone who respected me above all else. He treated me to our first date at Pizza Hut, made me countless dinners off his small George Foreman grill that trumped any Ramen noodle variation I could whip up, and tucked me, and my back brace, in at night when I would humiliate myself by falling asleep within minutes of taking my insomnia medication.
While I figured out myself out for the next year, he came along for the roller coaster ride, supporting me, loving me, making me laugh, listening to me cry, saying too many goodbyes in too many different airports. As each year passed, we grew together, made mistakes together, spelled out our futures together. He told me how scary it was having leukemia as a child. And when I cried for days after my Nan died, he held me close. He told me to stay, when gymnastics got too hard and heading back home seemed like the heroic thing to do. He sat through my graduation ceremony for far too many hours just to hear my name be read out for those 2.5 seconds. And all these little things boiled down to yesterday. Sitting in the USCIS office one more time, us two kids grown into adults, six years of a relationship in front of us in the form of quirky Valentine’s Day cards, letters from friends and family, photos from our wedding, scrapbooks made for six month anniversaries, proof that we are in fact two ordinary people, who are entirely blessed for finding one another, and promising to blend our futures together forever.
In two weeks I will get my official greencard in the mail. This card means I am now an official resident of the United States and I can work freely without fear of being deported. Hey Gorgeous can become an LLC now. I can visit my family without fear of being turned away at the border. Thankfully, I am also still a Canadian citizen. That will never change and I wouldn’t never ever want it to. Words could never express what it means to be from such a remarkable country as Canada. But here in Michigan, is where Andrew and I call home together, and this new status of mine marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. I can’t share too many details yet but we are planning on having a Greencard Party this winter in our new home, complete with a pistachio chocolate themed dessert table and an American themed photo booth; and I cannot wait to share all the excitement with you all, who have been so supportive, kind, encouraging and sweet to me. Confetti on, readers. xo
Photos above by Jenna McKenzie.