Choosing Connection Over Division: My Path to Becoming a U.S. Resident

Today leaves me awestruck. After more than two years of navigating what felt like a never-ending, nerve-wracking process, I have officially been accepted as a legal resident of the United States with a Green Card.

My immigration interview ticket.

It’s hard to describe the emotions leading up to this moment. Relief, pride, gratitude; but also unease. Because when the long-awaited interview invitation finally arrived in July, my eyes caught the date immediately: September 11, 2025.

Not being particularly superstitious, I still couldn’t help but feel the weight of that day. For me, and for so many others, September 11 carries memories that are seared into our hearts forever.

The Long Road to Today

Applying for permanent residency is not for the faint of heart. What was once a relatively straightforward process has become a gauntlet of scrutiny, paperwork, and waiting. I had to assemble binders full of certified documents... the literal story of my life, skeletons and all... and carry them across the country for my interview in Montreal; because of course you don’t check baggage when it holds every proof of your existence.

The process forces you to re-evaluate everything about your life. You are expected to know not only your spouse’s favorite color, but also what you plan to do “when you grow up” and move permanently across the border. That last one is trickier than it sounds.

Some of the factors that have stretched the immigration process from months to years are almost comical. Popular culture has played its part: the show 90 Day Fiancé exposed how some exploited loopholes to gain entry through marriage; unsurprisingly followed by a high number of divorces. But the more sobering reality is that September 11, 2001, fundamentally changed immigration to the U.S. The protective response reshaped the way every application is examined, including mine.

My Memory of 9/11

Before the second plane crashed into the World Trade Centre on September 11, 2025. Photo credit: USA Today.

On September 11, 2001, I was working in the United States. I remember standing frozen in front of the television as the first plane struck the Twin Towers. In my shock, I branded a mark while ironing my suit jacket, having forgotten the iron in my hand as I stared at the news.

The horror and disbelief were overwhelming. My instinct was to flee... to go home to Canada... to escape what was unfolding in the U.S. But the border was closed, and for five days I remained, adrift in grief and fear.

What has stayed with me most is not only the terror of those days, but the response. Heroism rose from the ashes: firefighters, police officers, and ordinary people who saved countless lives at the cost of their own. Kindness radiated outward, as strangers comforted one another.

I was reminded of that kindness through the musical Come From Away, which tells the story of planes diverted to Newfoundland when U.S. airspace shut down. Local communities opened their homes and hearts to stranded travelers; many lifelong friendships were born.

For me, too, the kindness of strangers softened the fear. In the midst of unspeakable worldwide grief, I witnessed humanity that transcended nationality, ethnicity, and differences.

Montreal: The Interview

Fast forward to 2025. After years of waiting, my ominous interview date was set. And so I packed those binders of documents into my carry-on and flew from the West Coast to Montreal; the only U.S. consulate in Canada conducting these interviews.

This morning, September 11, 2025, I sat in the waiting room with many others; all of us carrying the weight of our own stories in manila folders and document binders. The nervous energy in the room was palpable as we watched the call display screen, waiting for our ticket number to show up.

Then, at 8:46 a.m., a member of the consulate staff spoke over the intercom. He asked us to pause for a moment of reflection.

It was at this exact moment, 24 years earlier, that the first plane struck the World Trade Center, killing everyone on board and setting in motion the deadliest terrorist attack in U.S. history. He reminded us of the courage of those who risked and lost their lives, of the grief that followed, and of the international support... Canada among the first to step forward... that helped the U.S. rise again.

The room went silent. For a few moments, the tension of our immigration anxieties faded, replaced by something far bigger. It was a powerful reminder that while documents and interviews define the process, shared humanity defines the outcome.

Love Across Borders

In the days leading up to this milestone, I was often asked: “Why would you want to move to the U.S.?” Given current tensions between our countries, it’s a fair question.

The answer is simple, though not always easy to explain. I love Canada, and it will always be my home. But I also love the life my husband and I are building: a life that bridges both countries. More importantly, I carry with me the memory of the kindness shown to me in those uncertain days after 9/11. That experience remains a reminder that people, not politics, are what truly matter.

Headlines and political rhetoric may highlight division. But at the personal level... in airports, consulates, and small communities like Gander... people show up for one another with compassion, generosity, and empathy.

A Full-Circle Moment

The Leonard Cohen mural: his song "Hallelujah" seems a fitting tribute for my experiences today.

After the interview, I left the consulate feeling numb but grateful. Montreal, with its vibrant artistic energy, was the perfect host for reflection.

My husband and I climbed to one of the city’s famous lookouts for a panoramic view. As we admired the skyline, we struck up a conversation with a group beside us. They were visiting from Utah, still shaken by the violent death of a political influencer near their home only the day before.

Incredibly, they shared that they had been among the passengers diverted to Gander, Newfoundland on 9/11. They told us of the hospitality they had received there, and how Canadian strangers became family during those uncertain days. Oddly enough, they had never heard of the musical "Come From Away" that depicted their experience, but were certain to seek out the next possible show.

There we were: Canadians and Americans, standing together on a Montreal hillside, sharing memories and grief, resilience and hope. Twenty-four years apart, and yet bound by the same threads of humanity.

Choosing Connection

So today, as I proudly accept my new status as a permanent resident of the United States, I carry with me more than just a Green Card approval (the card itself is in the mail). I carry the memory of strangers who became community, the reminder that borders are political but kindness is human, and the belief that connection will always matter more than division.

This milestone is deeply personal, yes. But it is also a call to remember: our relationships are built not by governments, but by people... in moments of crisis, in acts of kindness, and in everyday choices to see each other’s humanity.

That is the lesson I take with me as I begin yet another new chapter.

P.S. Thank you for my longtime roommate from the past, Frédéric, for joining us tonight to celebrate!

From L to R: Canadian flag, the US flag, the Québec flag and the flag of Montréal.