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Of all the tasks necessary for our year in Prague, acquiring long-term visas was likely the only one that the Czech government gave a hoot about. I won't get into the details of why we applied on the late-ish side for these documents, but suffice to say ... we cut it close. Too close, as it turns out.

We flew out of the US on a Wednesday, a day that the NY Czech consulate office is not open. By Monday night, we still didn't have visas and were praying for a Tuesday approval, thinking that one day we'd look back on this and it would all seem funny.

Remember how we almost didn't even have visas when we went to Prague?
Oh yeah, I forgot all about that!

Karl actually spent Tuesday morning camped out in the consulate's foyer, hoping that his 43-year, charmed-life track record would come through for him.

It did not.

For our first two months abroad - as we bought frying pans and linens and set the boys up in a local school - we sported 90-day tourist visas. We finally learned in mid-September that our application was approved. I booked my ticket back to the States.

Although the visa issue was unnerving and a nuisance, I had reason to look forward to this trip – a long weekend away, staying with friends, no one to care for but me. The boys had been especially trying the days before I left. [Coincidence? Probably not. At one point Karl asked, “are you looking forward to missing them?”] Oneonta can be delightful in the fall. The weather forecast was agreeable. Fun plans with a friend for a day in NYC, which I expected to enjoy once visas were in hand.

And yet.

As I boarded the plane at Ruzyně Airport and took off from Prague, my mood plummetted with a heaviness like an anvil in my cheekbones. It felt wrong to be separating myself by an ocean from Karl and the boys.

The travel, though long, was uneventful. And the greetings of my friend who met me in Albany and my sweet neighbor-hosts revived me.

I had a wonderful visit. Nothing beats the enthusiastic embrace of friends, picking up conversations right where you left off, easy laughter, and – more telling – easy silences. The comfort of sharing space without the need for noise. It was terrific to be in Oneonta.

And now, we're legal.


Portions of this document have been redacted (and pretty crudely, I might add). Just 'cause.

I left Oneonta – where we've live for eight years (all but three weeks of Ben's life and all of Garrett's), where we've created an abode that is cozy, familiar, warm, and welcoming, where we've established community connections that are important and fulfilling to us –


and I returned home.