The first thing I do when I come home from work each night is to check my tracking number on the express envelope with my visa/passport to see if it’s been submitted to the United States Postal Service. This has been my routine for the past 3 weeks and it’s surprisingly still excitement inducing. I hold my breath as I turn on my laptop, and look away as I type the last two digits to the tracking number, then press enter. Anxiously I reroute my eyes to the computer screen, in hopes that it will display my tracking number and its respective delivery status. Upon reading the words “There is no record of this item,” I collapse disappointedly into my chair. Maybe tomorrow. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel this childlike hope that something better is coming. The kind of hope where one makes a construction paper chain link that marks the number of days until a big holiday, taking one link off day by day. 27 more days until that plane takes off with or without me, my visa had better arrive by then.
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