To say this whole {lengthily & expensive} Naturalization process has been a blur…
would be incorrect.
Only the above {rather important, once-in-a-lifetime} photo op was. Ahem.
I recall each step with crystal-clear, vivid detail.
Armed with precious bands and beads – the silver band, engraved with my name, given to me in Namibia by my parents when I was 9 years old…the green & brown string, by my baby sister, upon her return from Ghana…the red and blue ones, a hand-strung gift from my precious “besties” in honor of this momentous day…and my little American flag – my husband and I made our second trip down to Detroit in 1 week.
For one of the biggest days of my life.
{Pay no attention to the odd placement of my rebellious hair, nor the unsightly thickness of my torso…but simply take in the magnitude of this beautiful, memorable day}
I sung. I stood. I sat. I swore. I smiled.
Interesting factoid: this {lovely} judge – while standing in the very same court room as I – became an American citizen just 15 years ago. Born in the UK, his parents hailed from Jamaica. How cool is that?
Before making the 2 hour drive back home, my hubby and I went on to celebrate my freshly squeezed citizenship to this glorious country, melting pot of nationalities that it is, at none other than…The Melting Pot!
One word: wow
But seeing one word just doesn’t cut it, let’s just say it was the most decadent, deliciously delightful date we’ve had in a long time {or less eloquently put: holy dipping heaven, batman}.
We laughed, ate, cried, ate, pulled ridiculous faces, ate, reminisced, ate, had deep theological discussion, and then ate some more.
It was the perfect “cherry on top” of my {sweet} day.
Yesterday I handed in my little green card {aka. alien registration card} and became a proud new citizen of the United States of America, alongside 87 other people from across the globe.
While my husband is grieving his ability to boldly claim he is married to an Alien {really, he’s thrilled!}, I was tickled to hear that I could keep my Namibian passport after all!! Squueeee! While the States may no longer recognize it as valid documentation, it will make travel “back home” considerably more convenient}
While my heart will always sing of it’s African roots, and will ache to touch down on her breath-taking land every few years, there’s no denying my love for – and deep attachment to – this new land I call home.
For firmly rooted in her soil live some of the nearest and dearest treasures of my life.
Ah, yes…for home is indeed where the heart is.
