Commencement

In the spring of 1997, I was checking the mailbox for a letter.

At the last minute, I had applied to attend the University of Wisconsin-Madison and was awaiting their decision. From our house on the hill in Retreat, I’d cross the road toward Walnut Mound Cemetery and check the mailbox.

No letter.

Now, nearly 30 years later, and more than 4,000 miles away, I am waiting for a letter.

On May 8, exactly two years since I last left the U.S. and 21 months since I submitted my residency application, I received a letter from Norwegian immigration requesting additional information.

Liberation Day.

Within a few days, I submitted what was requested and resumed the wait.

At the end of January, I began a 4-month Norwegian language course, and the past few months have been a blur of bus, train and boat passes, of bouncing between Bergen and Skånevik.

On Tuesday, we took our exam and will learn the result next week. If I pass this A1 course, I will be eligible to apply for the A2 course in the fall.

But for now, life remains suspended between systems.

This morning I sent the summer edition of a publication I became editor of earlier this year off to print.

Like so much else lately, it is now out of my hands.

And just before sending this update, I crossed the road to check the mailbox.

No letter.