The first day of the rest of my life
I first arrived in my adoptive country 7 years ago on June 30th, a day before the anniversary of its founding as an independent commonwealth. I was clueless about the relevance of that day; and coming off a 14-hour flight, I’m pretty sure I could not have cared less.
I barely remember going through the airport’s customs check, but I do remember a border officer’s friendly welcome as he stamped my passport clear and sent me on my merry way. With all my worldly belongings stuffed into 2 pieces of luggage, i took my first step out into the chilly morning air.
Dorothy was right, Toto; we were definitely not in Kansas anymore.