Arriving in Canada

It was this beautiful for most of the drive

We crossed the border at Buffalo/Ft Erie at 11:30 p.m. Sunday night. The few hours before arriving, we reviewed what we would say to the immigration officers. Sean was nervous about being "either too up-front or too guarded", and I reassured him that they would ask whatever information we happened to leave out. "How would you explain it to a friend?" I said, because even though the border guard had the power to turn me away from Canada, they were also there to help us.

When we arrived, the officer at the gate asked a few terse questions, barely letting us tell her what we had painstakingly packed in the car. She directed us to park and go into the main building to the "counter on the left". Hearts pounding, we walked in the building and approached a man and a woman talking at the left-hand counter. The woman glanced at us and said, "yes?" I mumbled, "We were sent in here because I'm trying to come in during my PR waiting period?" "Other side," she said, and returned to her conversation.

Good luck charms

We crossed to the other counter where a clean-cut man was typing on a computer, and approached him. Without looking up, he barked, "Don't come to me. Wait in the line." We looked behind us; no one else was in the building. Glancing at each other, we backed away from the counter and stood.

After a minute or two, a voice from the third counter called out, "And I'll see if I can help you over here." A chubby man with salt-and-pepper hair facilitated the 6-month Visitor Record. He asked for our marriage license but none of our other paperwork we had carefully assembled. The whole process was handled in a matter-of-fact way, and we were done in 20 minutes. During that time, we observed two other young customs officers throwing balled-up paper at each other and shopping for T-shirts online. It was hard not to smile.

Leaving the building, we were grinning from ear to ear and hugged each other madly for a few minutes before jumping in the car. It slowly sunk in that we'd been lucky. All the stories we'd read on immigration forums suggested that proof of residence, proof of employment, and various other things were required in order to be let into Canada for such a long visit. They asked for none of this; they didn't even care that I brought my espresso maker.

We didn't get home until shortly after 1 a.m., and fell asleep around 2:30. The following day was a pleasant blur; beginning at 10:30 and interrupted by a long, necessary mid-afternoon nap. We managed to accomplish groceries and Thai take-out before falling asleep again at 11:00. We were exhausted from the 4 days of heavy-duty packing and hauling and emotional intensity back in Ohio. Now, Sean's back at work, and I've got the day to myself at home. It's time to get into the new routine, the new life, where intermittent romance is replaced by daily tasks and small pleasures. Little by little, settling in.