A few years ago, my coworker, Naresh, got married during a trip back home to Nepal. I imagine one of the hardest things he had to do was board a plane back to the US at the end of that stay. He spent the next year or so doing the paperwork shuffle to get his wife processed for lawful permanent resident status - a green card.
While Andrea and I did the long-distance relationship thing for a few years, we were only separated by a half dozen states and a single time zone, not half the globe. An advantage Naresh and his wife had that Andrea and I did not was modern technology. They could at least "see" each other with frequent video calls. Andrea and I could always pick up the phone and call each other, but in those days, there were still long-distance charges attached, and our monthly phone bills reflected this.
Meanwhile, petitions had to be filed, supporting documents had to be submitted, and consular visits had to be scheduled. Then came the wait. We'd ask Naresh periodically for an update on the status, and he'd just shrug and shake his head, "We're still waiting."
Over the following months, milestones in the process were passed. Her petition was approved, her consular appointment was successful, and her visa was granted. She was coming over. Even with a plane ticket and visa in hand, the stress she was under was still enormous. Her entire life had to be packed into a few suitcases, and she had to say goodbye to her family not knowing when she'd be with them again. She'd never been beyond the borders of Nepal, but now her first plane ride ever was this multi-day, international, trans-Atlantic flight with layovers.
We tracked her flight along with Naresh, and as her plane approached Dulles, we peppered him with suggestions of "firsts" to take her. Outlet malls, Luray Caverns, and the ocean at Rehoboth Beach were suggested. He just smiled and said, "Yeah. She'll probably just want to sleep for about a week." Fair point.
Over the next few weeks, she acclimatized herself to so many new things: weather, language, food, and the weird landscape of American TV. Then she got to work. Trained as a nurse in Nepal, she started studying for the professional certification that would allow her to practice here. In a parallel effort, she also studied for her driver's license. She successfully acquired both and began working as a nurse at a local hospital. It wasn't long before her skills and endurance were tested as the country tried to navigate a global pandemic.
The speed with which she has become a productive, integral part of the community awed us all, and I was privileged to witness someone's American journey unfold in front of me.
There's an incredible amount of courage involved in leaving familiarity behind and stepping out into the unknown, and that singular fact needs to be acknowledged. Beyond that, we must also recognize we are and always will be a nation of immigrants. The American fabric is much richer, bolder, and stronger with the multitude of threads comprising its weave.
Led Zeppelin - "Immigrant Song"
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