We may perhaps need to welcome you home to a democratic UK and Europe for I fear you may end up a student in the US for many years. We would welcome you, your partner and family back to a country that you would all be able to call home. We wish you great success in the US and we will continue to fight your corner from this side of the Atlantic. I am ashamed to tell you that not one politician has responded to our letter asking for the support of the UAFA act.
sincerely
Richard

Force your own destiny. Money must never be your main focus. Education is your main force while you are young. That education will get you the job, the home, and the family, that both you and your partner deserve. We both managed to survive on one income, therefore you will too. We did not have two cars, flash holidays, expensive watches or clothes, but we do have each other. We now have a lovely home in the UK, nothing grand, along with a nice little place on the south coast of Spain, and of course our love for one another. This love is the glue that will bind you both together, even when you are great distances apart. It will give you the strength to fight your corner, as it has done us.

We too had to fight against a less than sympathetic government. The lawyer, barrister and other legal costs that at times seemed far more than we could afford, but fortunately we could by making sacrifices and we were successful. You too will succeed in the path you take. Just keep your focus on education, for it will be the key to your success in life. You and your partner will prevail, as love knows no boundary.
I wish you the most exciting future, full of love, happiness and the family you so desire. Remain focused and you will achieve more than you ever anticipate.
The answer to your question is… There is no distance between two hearts in love so long as they remain in love.

Even more-so, though – it’s a shame that thousands of dollars are spent needlessly ensuring that what we have of our homes are taken care of while we’re abroad, that we’re feeding a seemingly unstable airline industry in attempt to grab for whatever threads of salvation there may be dangling from our fragile relationships – the time missed from work, and more importantly, the time missed from life.

I am here in the United States – a three-hour flight from my partner (though it was 13 to my ex), and even though I am so close that I can very literally be with him the same evening for dinner, assuming that I could afford such travels in the first place on the meager salary of a college student praying to not starve to death in this economy, my life is on hold.

Certainly, I move forward – but in a very static manner. It’s as if I pick everything up and take a step forward, with each goal I achieve, so as to be sure as to not leave anything important behind. I am the first in my family to go to college – and I am the first to graduate. In very literally six days, I complete my B.S. and will in 21 begin my M.Ed. – my partner isn’t here with me to experience this remarkable joy or to help me handle the stress….

And for that reason, there is no joy. I am graduating – the first in a family – what should certainly be an unabashedly joyous occasion – and the day will come and go like any other. I’ll wake, have oatmeal with apple butter (it’s a guilty pleasure), do my housework, look for a job which I will not find, and wait for him to get home from work so that when he logs on to msn or skype (whichever he fancies that day), I’ll be able to look into those remarkable eyes and tell that he is terrified of being there alone… that he’s worried I am here being unfaithful. I’ll dream of running my fingers through his curly hair, caressing his beautiful face, giving him a hug, and telling him that I love him more than he could ever imagine.

Instead of those dreams coming true, though – I am staring at a computer screen – squinting because I hate to wear my glasses – and seeing his face – worrying that he’s over-worked, isn’t eating enough, or feels alone and hopeless without me there.

I refuse to accept that as my future. For now, I’m limited in what I can do… I cannot pack my apartment into a suitcase, fly to Mexico, and establish a new life – as much as I would love to… my ability in speaking Spanish prevents me from finding a job in the social services or a respectable job in education there. I’ll try to learn Spanish if it’s what I have to do… but we talked today… he asked me, “When we get married, how will we decide where we will live – you are there, I am here.” I told him that I think that as a team, we should make that decision based upon the quality of life we want and can obtain in each location… what kinds of jobs are available for each of us, what kind of support systems exist. He responded, “Of course there is better – money is worth much more.”

Sure – money is worth much more here than in Mexico… but what’s the value of money when there is no justice? If some opportunity were to present for me to pack my life into a beautifully-arranged piece of Swiss army luggage and haul it across that border, with the assurance that when I arrived – I would have some sort of employment that would be enough for me to take care of us – on all that is holy and nearly everything that isn’t, I swear to you – I would get this sofa-sleeper into that carry-on if I had to put it in a blender first.

I shouldn’t have to worry about how I’m getting a sofa-sleeper into a blender, though – instead, I should be wondering… will our first child be a boy or a girl? What color do I paint the nursery to surprise him? How do I get him out of the house long enough to get it done? If I accept this job making 5,000 less in a suburban community that’s safer for our family, will he be upset by the decrease in our income?

And at the end of the day, I can tell you with an unreasonable certainty – that child could be both, that nursery could be orange with blue polka-dots, I could paint it with him standing in the middle of the room in protest, and I could take that job paying them 5,000 to let me work there – and he would still be here with me, and none of it would matter. He could be dancing to disco music (which, for some reason despite having been decades too late for the trend, he loves to do), while I ensure that he will always have that opportunity.

Instead, we are ripped apart by a common border. By men in uniform who stand at a fence put there by representatives who, in acting on what they believe to be the principal of majority rule, have failed to take action to ensure that the love of my life and I, despite our remarkable proximity to one another and having been torn apart by chunks of metal, culture, and confusion – are as far apart as physiology would allow.

What’s the distance between two hearts in love?