We arrived in San Francisco Airport and rushed to the passport check. There are two separate lines: one for citizens and permanent residents, one for visitors. We have bought a house here, our son goes to school here, we both work here and pay taxes and dues and social securities we will never see a penny of. Yet, we are considered aliens because we are on visa.
Long long lines were moving forward and it is our turn at last. I talked to the immigration officer:
- We came here because we live and work here
- Yes our son goes to school here
- Yes we have been to all over the places
- I have been working for the same division for more than five year now
- I work as a Global Product Manager for them
- Yes San Jose is our home address
- No we don't have any meat of fruit or alcohol with us
- ...
He stamped the passports, wrote on some papers, punched some keys on his keyboard and returned the passports to me: "Welcome home"!
Yes. Home.
I graciously thanked him and smiled.
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About Me
- midnight/...
- An emigrant from an ancient civilization to North America, an engineer in marketing and management, a mom of working kind, who thinks when she talks, and who likes to write. I, L.B., own the copyright to the content.
Happy to have you in our home
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