As the bell rang, I had already had a premonition. I slowly opened the window on the first floor of our house and looked out of the window. The postman was at the door and had a registered letter for me. With wavering hands, I took the pen and signed the paper. I could already recognize the writing on the brown envelope. The letter was from my friend from Brazil. More than eight weeks I had waited for this day, for this letter. And now I could finally take delivery of it. My tension was almost unbearable. My knees were shaking and I was barely able to hide my broad grin.
Fast, but carefully I opened the letter. Lastly, I didn’t want to destroy anything. Four documents dropped out of the envelope, all in Portuguese, all signed and all legalized by the registration authority. These four documents, the birth certificate, the registration certificate, the certificate of no impediment and the passport copies from my boyfriend are the icons of my future. A first step on my way to Brazil. Because I have mustered all my courage, or more precisely, I made a decision: Brazil will be my new home. For six months, three years, or the rest of my life. I don’t it know yet. But one thing is for sure: With these documents I hold the key to the future in my hands.
To obtain a permanent residence permit in Brazil, I have three options: I could stay illegally for two years and then I will naturalized automatically, I could enter a civil partnership with my boyfriend or we will get married. After his marriage proposal in July, there is no choice anymore which option I should choose. But these four documents are just the beginning. I need to get more documents. They need to be translated, officially certified and then sent to the consulate. And if I will forget just one thing, one of these many documents, my future will be broken.
In my head, everything is already pre-planned, perhaps too well planned. I have already imagined my flight. How I will check in my two suitcases impatiently – as many as you can take with you on a flight to Brazil. How I will get my boarding passes and take a seat with a smile on my face. How I will settle down on my seat with my favourite pillow and look out the window of the airplane curiously. How I won’t sleep at night with excitement when we cross the Atlantic Ocean and I will oversleep the breakfast. How I will watch one movie after another on board or will polish up panicky my Portuguese vocabulary. And how I will re-enter the Brazilian mainland, grab my bags, pass over the customs duty and stride into the waiting hall of the Antonio Carlos Jobim in Rio de Janeiro full of hope and expectations. And then I will look at the brigth face of my boyfriend.
But these images are just imaginations, fragments. Memories of what has happened in the last three years and hopefully will have an end soon. I don’t want another “goodbye” (as we say in German: “see you again”), if I don’t know if there will be a real reunion again. I don’t want to look into an uncertain future and continue to chase my dreams. And there shouldn’t be another sleepless night, because I don’t know if this special person at the end of the world really thinks of me. I want to have my personal adventure eventually. Making Brazil my new home country. Snapping more pictures, writing more texts, being creative again. All these desires, hopes reside in these four documents. If they are just a surreal dream or will become beautiful reality, this is on me.