You know, the one thing I've learned from this whole, horrendous, drawn out visa process, is that focusing on the positive is imperative. I've always been a glass-half full kind of gal anyway, but now, I'm a glass three quarters full, because let's face it if I wasn't, I'd probably be locked away in the loony bin somewhere. That said, while Gregory's visa denial was beyond dreadful, the timing, was actually pretty good.
(Since I mentioned it, I feel like now is a good time to drop this fun fact on y'all - while Gregory was notified of his visa denial when the embassy returned his unstamped passport to him, I still have yet to be. That's right, I'm the petitioner, and as such should have received notification, but someone cocked up and I still haven't gotten a letter or email to let me know. Way to go America, way to go. My lawyer is on it.)
We got the bad news three days before I was due to fly to Dublin to kick off our summer vacation. You're probably wondering how that could possibly be good timing but here it is; we had a couple of days to process the news, and make a plan (of course that initial plan was defunct about 312 plans ago, but still, we had a plan), and for the shock to wear off, so by the time I was on a plane that Saturday morning in May, we were ready to focus on us, and fun, and to enjoy ourselves. All talk of visas, waiting times, separations, or oh my God what are we going to do, was banned.
So I set off from San Antonio for a few days with my family in Dublin, before reuniting with Gregory in France to return to my old stomping grounds, and my French crew for a three week break from the bull$@*#. There would be laughter, and joy, and South of France sunshine, and goats cheese salads, and Zara, and by God, there would be Rosé.