January 31, 2004, was the big day. Everything was packed and on the way to the US. I had my Visa ready. In the morning, I handed my Mom all the cell phones; I couldn’t use them outside Europe. And off we went to the Frankfurt International Airport. Mom, my sister, and my step-father drove to Frankfurt with us. Halfway there, we had breakfast at a rest stop. In Frankfurt, Kevin handed over the rental car keys before we checked in. And from there it went quick. We did not have much time to say our Goodbyes. Mom cried so bad because she had to let go of Katelynn, her granddaughter, who was less than four months old. I told her, that America is not that far away. There is always an airplane with a seat and our names on it.

After an eight-hour flight to Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, I had to go to the immigration stand, show them my paperwork, and get my stamped passport after a few questions from an officer. He was stationed at a nearby post. And he lived only a few blocks from where I grew up, in the early 1970s.

When we arrived at the new Terminal, I fed Katelynn, while Kevin called his parents to let them know, when we would land in Greensboro, North Carolina. Meanwhile, I looked out of the big Terminal window and saw the skyline of Chicago. That’s when it hit me. I had only $.22 in my pockets left. A small baby in my arms, with no work lined up. What the heck was I thinking, when I agreed to that? (Later, it proved with hard work and a college degree we figured it out. It shows America is only for the risk-takers.)

In the evening, we arrived at the GSO Airport in Greensboro, North Carolina. My in-laws picked us up. They were so excited to see their granddaughter for the first time. The ride to Valdese took about an hour and a half. We all were exhausted and ready to go to bed.