We were on our way to the Department of Motor Vehicles this week to renew Stephen’s license. It expires while we are out of town next week and you never know how many times you will need to return with different paperwork, different medical tests, and different days or hours. But amidst the week, it was on a very long to-do list.
I believe I said something along the lines of, “Well, maybe it will just go really quickly and smoothly.”
To which Stephen replied, “Yeah, maybe. Maybe the DMV in Thailand in another language will just go really, really smoothly. That’s a lot of optimism you’ve got there.” 😂
He’s now back for the second time this week with two copies of every possible paper he could need (signed & unsigned, black & white, plus originals), to watch an hour long video of violent car & motorbike accidents, and then hopefully it will go smoothly & quickly!
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We got our licenses shortly after we arrived. They give you one year from your birthday at first, and then you get a five-year license. So, as he returns–we’re nearing the seven year mark in this country, in this growing little town, on this street and in this very house.
It’s funny the things that show you time going by. It’s not what you expect.
It’s not that seven years has snuck up on me: I’ve watched it coming one day at a time. And what is seven years anyway? You’d think five would’ve hit me, or maybe ten if we make it.
Instead, it was last week as I was trying to get two fans to work, I was frustrated as these “fans we bought new” were failing us. I said something about not wanting to buy more–they should work! And Stephen reminded me that, while we did buy them new, they have been on for nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for 7 years.
Maybe those fans are as tired as we are. 😂
And then it was this license. I remember getting the second one, seeing it was good for five years. Five years, I thought, we won’t have to renew it! I thought we’d be gone by then. For some reason four years seemed likely; five years seemed the cap.
So much of what we do feels transient, even seven years in. We rent a house because we don’t have the option to own; most of what we buy we consider the re-sale value. We do paperwork for visas and work permits regularly, a constant reminder that we are aliens. We operate in multiple languages.
I find myself walking in the market like it’s home to me, understanding the chatter and knowing exactly where to buy the best carrots. And then I find myself wondering why people are staring. Apparently I still look less at home than I feel with my glowing skin and large nose.
(Yes, it’s probably the most frequent comment from strangers, either to us or without knowing we understand them: what big, beautiful noses we have!)
And for some reason, renewing it this week, it feels like we are…residents. We are making a home here.
This license feels like evidence. I came, I stayed, and I’m renewing this thing.
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He just called to tell me he has to go back this afternoon. They wanted his old passport–the one that expired two years ago. The one that is in America, unused, because we can’t use an expired passport. So they will accept a copy, but he will have to come back at 1pm for the next video showing.
So, you won’t make this easy on us, hmm? I tell you, that expired document requirement was a surprise!
But let me tell you again: I came, I stayed, and I will renew this thing.
The license, and my will to survive, it seems!
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