Home

Alexander and I recently spoke with an immigration attorney in the U.K. and discovered that in order for us to live there, we would have to be separated for a time. The attorney said Alex would have to get a job in the U.K. and work for at least a month before I could file my documents to process a visa which would take a few more weeks. During that time, I would have to be in the U.S. and so I would be separated from my husband for a few months, or even longer if my visa were denied. We couldn't go through all that. Not again.

After this news, I talked to my grandma about our current plan, which is to stay in Poland indefinitely. My grandma did NOT take the news lightly. She hates the thought of her grandkids being bullied, and that is effectively what is happening by the UK Border Agency. We can't live where we want to live because because my passport isn't from the "right" country, so we're being bullied into staying somewhere we never intended to live. I'm not complaining about Poland, it's a nice place, but it's not where we saw ourselves settling. So, through tears and sobs my grandma cried, "Why can't you just come home?"

Home.

Dictionary.com defines this noun as:

a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.

By this definition, my home is Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, grandma, I am home. Of course, that's not what grandma meant. The second definition is:

the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

By this definition, my affections (fond attachment, devotion, or love) lie with my husband, who lives in Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, once again, I am home. Yet, this was also not what grandma meant.

When my grandma made her tearful request, she meant I should just take myself and my husband and move to the U.S. The problem is, quite simply, that's not our home. My husband is British with family in the U.K., his parents live in France, our first home as a married couple was Indonesia, my family lives all over the U.S, and we now live in Poland. What is our home?

Excuse me, dictionary.com, but I have my own definition of home, which can't be summarized with a cursory handful of words. Home is waking up to my husband's kisses and a cup of coffee. Home is teasing my husband about losing his British vocabulary after time away from his native country. Home is trying new recipes and having my husband devour each one of them, even when they don't turn out quite right. Home is arguing over who should wash the dishes or take out the trash and then laughing over such silly arguments (perhaps after a few hours of moping). Home is falling asleep next to my husband and grabbing him in the night when I have a bad dream. Home is happiness, laughter, and love.

And I beg your pardon, U.K. Border Agency, but you have no right to separate a home.