Chapter 18: Volver Volver
The flight home was peaceful, a serene finale to our exquisite honeymoon. Before leaving for Buenos Aires, I had found a special card featuring two Parisian women dancing tango in the 1920s - the same image that had inspired the painting Colette showed me on our first date at Cache. As she drifted in and out of sleep beside me, I took the moment to put my feelings into a short note.
As the plane hummed softly, matching Colette's peaceful breathing beside me, I slipped the card into her bag, a tender token of our unforgettable journey and the promise of many more to come.
Our arrival back in the States was a harsh return to reality. At immigration, Colette, with her Canadian passport and a photocopy of her green card, was met by the stern face of bureaucracy. Her photocopy was not sufficient. When the officer directed her to a separate room, my protests were futile. We would not be allowed to stay together. Minutes turned to hours in the arrivals hall as I stood my ground, despite Colette's texts urging me to go home. I remained anchored there, watching other travelers come and go, while my beloved navigated the administrative maze.
During the agonizing wait, I remembered the chocolate I had tucked into her bag alongside the card. I texted her, hoping to offer some comfort: "Check your bag for a little something to sweeten your life." Time crawled by until, finally, several exhausting hours and $500 later, Colette emerged, her spirit intact. "Let's go home, darling," she said, her ordeal with the bureaucrats over, and our hearts ready to resume the rhythm of our happy life.