I feared marriage would take that which what was once a continuous choice to be together and diamond-ring it into an obligation. After all, too often those we love the most we take for granted the most. Being together as boyfriend and girlfriend seemed a more deliberate, thoughtful approach to a long-term relationship than letting tax filing and health care eligibility incarcerate Camelot by gettin’ hitched. But immigration demanded we put a ring on it and so, quite honestly, did some hard-to-define romantic notion we shared. JD and I were wed –beautifully, wonderfully – after 12 happy unofficial years togeth-o under our belt. That marriage license has proved its weight in gold in paragliding JD o’er the border. Progressive as we Americans may seem as the first world leader, we’re really not. Those dozen years spent in love and in dedicated relationship held a twig to the boy scout campfire one piece of marriage license paper wielded.
Turns out, I’m happy to be married to my forever-love. I’m happier that my forever-love is coming in less than a week. Less than six days, Interveb! We had a nonchalant goodbye at the airport, naively believing that immigration would follow the timeline it set forth in its own documents. Now, three and a half months later, I get to really, actually see my husband! Like an overprotective, rifle collecting father, the United States government has deemed my husband worthy of actually being in the same country as me.
Being close is cool. Suddenly I can chat in the evening when it’s also the evening for family and friends gathered together today to celebrate us all being in the U S of Blessed A. Suddenly West Coast chums are watching the sun go down just as I am, even if it’s from California instead of Washington.
I’ve heard before that travel makes the world seem smaller. Maybe it’s my years of travel that make me giddy to be so close with those I love who are still not actually here in my new state.
Last week JD left Vietnam. In many ways it feels like the final curtain call on our time in Da Nang. When I left, it was a certain close of a chapter. But, he carried on our connection to our fun, fancy-free and sometimes (fabulously?) dysfunctional life there. When he left, we really, actually left. And I really, actually moved here.
It’s a bit sad. And a bit happy.
Woohoo to you, America! You let a good one in. I’m grateful and giddy for your decision (really). And you were so gracious and accommodating about the whole process (not). Anyhoo, JD has his Green Card and that’s all that matters for the moment.
And so, what does this bright-eyed, bushy tailed new American resident have to look forward to here in the Pacific Northwest? Let’s find out.