There is a lump in my throat.

I wake up early and check my alarm… switch it off and decide to get up.

I open the curtains and look out. London.

My beloved London, the place that had a firm grip on my heart. The hustle and business of everyday life. There is always something going on.

I take a deep breath and decide to get set for the day, I have to check all my pockets.. every area where something could of been hidden.

I cannot risk something going wrong today.

No phone, no wallet, no pens – pencils, nothing that could hinder what I was trying to achieve today.

My appointment time starts at 8am, but doesn’t state a set time. First come – first served. I will not be the last – I will not be missed today.

I throw on a smart shirt, tie, ironed jeans, newly polished shoes.

Staring into the bathroom mirror of the room at the Covent Garden Premier Inn that I would call home for the next few days. Deep breath.

Coffee. Do not spill it.

I store my bag at the lockers provided. Nothing extra comes in.

A clear plastic envelope with my life inside it. Everything from passports, to love letters between me and Rachel. My life, our life in a file for the government to judge and deem true.

I get to the embassy and my heart sinks. Hundreds of people – all waiting for the opportunity to be granted a green card.

I join the line and 45 minutes later I am screened, searched and allowed to enter the next waiting area. I am number F1216, I don’t know what this means but it certainly makes me feel like just another digit in the system.

My number is called. My files are taken away, passport, letters… life. I suppose they were scanned and read or put into a file of their own. Two hours pass and I get the files back.

I am sat at the back of the waiting room, no AC, a TV showing news updates on repeat. Man this is exciting.

My number is called again. Files in hand, I get ushered into a different room.

Questions about Rachel were asked. About my boys. Our marriage. The legitimacy of it all.

My heart is pounding with each answer, trying to think before I speak… trying to make sense of what exactly is being asked.

I passed.

I did it.

I got the stamp of approval.

Now the wait for its arrival begins.