Right now, each day is another day I don’t have my passport. Each day is another day I hear the mail slot in our door bang, only to go to collect the post from the floor disappointed to see that there is still no word from the Home Office, no sign that I’ll soon have Residency. Truth is I don’t care nearly as much about the Residency as I do about just getting my freaking passport back so I can finally take my daughter to the country I’m from so she can meet her grandpa, see her grandma, spend time with aunt, uncles, and cousin.
Thanksgiving is Thursday. We were supposed to be there right now. This was supposed to be my first Thanksgiving in eight years where I actually got to spend it with my family and that awesome little Duchess of ours. Instead, we keep waiting. Instead we hope that maybe Christmas will happen, but with each passing day I grow a little more disheartened.
I’m not one to get homesick very often. I don’t think you can remain in a constant state of homesickness and survive as an expat. You have to immerse yourself in the culture, find your place and move forward. But occasionally, it rears its ugly head and it is ugly indeed.
This year I am giving thanks for so many things that have gone down; I just wish I was doing it in another country.