My little latin love story, Part 8 of ...

Our relationship began to suffer. Mili was becoming impatient. “Why are they doing this to us? Why don’t we get married here?” (She knew that she didn’t want her children to grow up the same way she did, but she said it anyway. Although I believe that she knew that no matter what they would have a better life no matter where.). The idea was appealing but I had learned that we would have to go though the same process for her to come to the US whether we were married or not, and I felt that I would miss her a lot more if we were already married. She also began to very agitated with little things. For example, if I didn’t write one day she would have a fit and I would spend close to forty dollars on phone cards so that we could talk out our frustrations and be ready to carry on. More than once she had been willing to call off the whole thing, but I would talk her out of it.

Not only was the strain weighing on Mili and me. It was also weighing on those who had to deal with me. My brother sat me down and asked, “are you sure you want to go through this? I mean this really seems like a lot more work than it’s worth. And with all the problems that you’re running into, it might even be God telling you that it isn’t right.”

“I’m sure about this.” That was a lie, at this point I was doubting too. I believe that God has a plan and is always more than willing to give hints on what one should do. My patience was wearing thin and I was looking at all that was going on and asking myself if maybe God didn’t want it to work out. But I was sick of being out of control. I was sick of putting my heart and soul into something and then for some reason or another watching it crash and burn. I had watched my last girlfriend dump me for some stupid reason. I came back from my mission and saw someone completely different inside of the body of the woman that I had loved so dearly. I wasn’t going to allow the government to destroy my hopes. I wasn’t going to allow even God from keeping me from doing everything in my power to make our relationship work. So I put my doubts aside and marched on knowing that more than likely I was going in alone.

The first week of September Mili received a package filled with forms and a list of documents they needed copies of, oh yea and $100. She had to have a complete medical exam done by a doctor at the US embassy in Peru (another $100). I wired her $300 because I had become used to the idea that when working with the government there is always another fee.