The Book of the City of Ghost Cats

I think there was a not insignificant part of me that wondered if this day would actually arrive. I haven’t posted in a bit because I was waiting for a milestone, for that leap off the high-dive, for the tectonic shift of life to be worthy of a post.

But small things were always happening. I’d shared with a few more people about my departure and suddenly, as word spread, there was a farewell party. With sparkling wine, high-tops, and a view out over the campus that has been home for eight years. Of course, that’s complicated by the fact that I didn’t know when the visa would be approved and that meant I didn’t know when I really needed to commit to a farewell. Everyone wanted to know when I was leaving. And there’s few things I enjoy less than having to explain my situation over and over again, even if that’s the way of things…it isn’t an everyday occurrence to up and go to England. And of course, it’s a lovely thing to explain that you’re changing your life for love. The gazes that washed over me…wistful, as though I was a bit naive, hopeful, bemused at the effort, genuinely sad that I would be at a remove from our shared work life in our shared time zone. I was and am very grateful to everyone who came to wish me well. But the visa was still in process and so I went back to work.

I also heard advice from people who reminded me to allow room for the things I will miss, but also, to see how incredible an experience this is and to value it. Have fun with it. Let it open up the world. There’s been so much gentle encouragement ever since this decision was made.

But still, I felt as though A. and I had an idea. The being apart of our relationship was not tenable and we needed to fix it. All the pros and cons lists were tallied and me going to England was the right call. But it became paperwork and the effort of strangers to make that happen and for I wanted to luxuriate in the last segment of this time as a non-expatriate. But anxiety, the dread bedfellow, at this not working or happening or only happening another month from now, sort of sopped up the luxury. I felt Rule Britannia fade in the background as if it had all been a fantastical whim.

And then, there was something to do again. I needed to go get myself fingerprinted for the biometrics required. We learned late in the process there is a place to do this locally, but it was so new that it would be until the 25th to manage it. And I…didn’t want to wait. Patience being one of my lesser virtues, I booked a flight to LA and with the graciousness of a dear friend who let me stay with her, I was able to get my fingers printed, my face photographed and everything else required complete in less than an hour. Then, then, we were able to hang out just a bit and enjoy the sweltering and beautiful world of Los Angeles (and enjoy the most adorable dog named Lambchop ever to draw breath.)

And that should have been a sufficient milestone, I think. I could share with you the strange, dreamlike liminal space of a visa center located within the SAG-AFTRA offices where you enter a tiny complex of rooms – most of which are windowless – and take a ticket like you’re standing at the meat counter. I did make the photographer in one of those utterly white walled rooms laugh when he asked me to confirm whether I was myself. I try to be, most days. Luckily, he laughed. It was all so serious with metal detectors and silence encouraged. If that was as far as I got, it’d be akin to offering up some sort of progress.

But after trying to fly back on the day United had those countrywide technology failures – which meant that my flight was pushed back and pushed back until it was cancelled at 1:00a.m., I wasn’t very focused on blogging the news. Dealing with that (poorly, on both our sides) sort of chewed me up a bit as I slept at LAX, bumbling around between terminals like the walking dead as I figured out how to get myself home. It was a whole thing.

And now, there’s some terrible post-travel throat irritation I’m dealing with that is driving me mad. Suffice to say, it was very easy to slip back into my day-to-day concerns and the lofty excitement of being an expat and shedding everything holding me back as I made this cross-Atlantic move stopped registering for a while.

I did start packing some boxes.

But today, to bury the lede, my visa was approved. As an eVisa, it’s now attached to my passport and I’ve bought my one-way ticket to London. That’s the milestone. 9 days from now, it happens. And I’m right there in the heart of it. I get to be with my boyfriend. I get to experience life in England. I get to see and experience rather than linger and imagine and ruminate.

It’s a big day.