The big move to Pittsburgh came a whole lot faster than I expected.

The two weeks after the wedding were spent sorting, packing, planning, and saying good-byes. Bittersweet.

It’s funny when I think of how my mindset was when I was younger. All I wanted was to get away. Move someplace far, see new places, meet new people, and never have to deal with silly, boring New Brunswick ever again. I was pretty sure I never wanted to get married – why the heck would I want to tie myself to some guy and ruin all my potential adventures? – and I wanted anything but ordinary. No routines, no schedules, no plans.

By the time I was done university, I could finally see how great my hometown is. How wonderful it is to be surrounded by your family. How comforting it is to have countless friends a short walk away. I fell in love way sooner than I expected and dove head-first into marriage. And then, just when I was warming up to the idea of settling in New Brunswick permanently, I had to move to Pittsburgh. How ironic is that?

Okay, I didn’t have to move. If I had asked my husband to stay here, he would have said “yes”. Because he’s just that great. But he got accepted into a fantastic school to take a degree he was really excited about. Furthermore, he had ALL of his tuition paid for him. How could I say no to that? I wasn’t going to deny my husband his dream when it was so easily possible just to make myself more comfortable. Besides, we only grow when we’re outside of our comfort zone. Right?

It was things like that that I kept telling myself the days leading up to the move. That, and how often I’d come back to visit. I thought about the endless possibilities awaiting me in my new life, and tried as hard as I could to push away the sadness weighing me down.

My mom and step-dad drove me to the airport early in the morning January 25th. I always hate good-byes with my mom. She looks at me with her big, teary blue eyes and my heart just breaks. We made the farewells as quick as we could since leaving was making me fell physically ill – hugs, kisses, and then I was on my way.

I flew to Toronto from Saint John, and then on to Pittsburgh from there. I brought two very large, very heavy suitcases with me. That was it. My entire life, in two bags. Everything else I left in Canada to be picked up this summer when the weather is better and when we (hopefully) have a bigger place in which to put it all.

The flights were quick, easy, and on time. I had to go through customs in Toronto which was a huge pain. In case you’ve never had to go through customs, I had to pick up my luggage from the carousel, drag it over to customs, fill out a paper, wait in line for what feels like forever, answer some questions for the customs guard, put my luggage back on the carousel, and then race to the gate in time to board my next flight. It was far less substantial than I expected. Again, I was expecting to feel different going through customs as a US resident, but it was the same as ever.

I landed in Pittsburgh at about eleven that morning, exhausted from how little sleep I had the night before and incredibly excited to see my husband.

He was waiting for me at the luggage carousel. Being in his arms again made the past year feel almost surreal. It was so nice to be together and know that we won’t have to live apart anymore. No more separate countries. Just us, together, creating new lives. We stayed there like that, hugging, for what seemed like a long time. We didn’t really have any words to say. We knew exactly how the other felt. Already the painful process of immigration started to seem like a distant memory. Did we really go through all that? Did it really take so long? Did we really get through the pain of the whole process?

My husband pulled out of the hug, kissed me, and said “let’s go home”. And so we did. Finally.