Mitcham Memory.

Twice a week I drive through Mitcham on the way home from college.

I stare at the street as we drive past, where I stood on the phone to my mother crying.

Crying isn’t right.

Wailing.

Huge great gulps and sobs.

I nearly sat down in the street.

Whilst crying, I worried that a neighbour would come out of their house and ask me to move.

It seems so diminished now. Now that everything is fine.

I’d been to see a solicitor about applying for indefinite leave to remain. My husband was overseas and my only chance at claiming. The solicitor explained that I would be unsuccessful if he didn’t reside in the UK with me full time.

The situation was impossible.

Huge great gulps and sobs.

I cannot explain how frightened I was at the thought of returning to Australia.

I waited at a bus stop.

I called my boyfriend. We were fighting at the time. Taking a weekend off. There were lots of those.

I begged him to come see me. I started to explain how hopeless I felt. How frightened I was. How ridiculous it seemed to me that even if I divorced my husband, there wouldn’t be time to marry him before my visa expired.

How I felt like a criminal.

He wouldn’t come.

I think of this as I drive through Mitcham.

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