I-130 Family Immigration Visa Reflections: Prepare for a Marathon (Part III)

Confidently, I told the officer, “I own my own company.” He offered a satisfied smile. In America, honesty alone isn’t enough—you must also convey competence and resilience. From the moment I decided to move, I knew I needed to be self-reliant yet ready to ask for help. Nothing in the U.S. is guaranteed, and even a strong, determined woman must prove herself. The officer’s repeated questions simply tested for inconsistencies or falsehoods. Once our documents were complete, he pronounced my visa approved.

I felt no panic. In fact, I secretly wished for more time in Taiwan—where healthcare is excellent and affordable, Botox treatments are reasonably priced, and world-class cuisine awaits at every turn. My past travels—sleeping on the streets of London as a penniless wanderer and exploring remote European villages—had prepared me to face any challenge with equanimity. Before U.S. Customs, I was the confident, globe-trotting entrepreneur they expect: unafraid and ready for whatever comes next.

The only place in Taiwan that could never contain me was one that demanded I dim my light. I value directness and efficiency, and I look forward to the American market’s blunt honesty and meritocracy—where failure is part of the process and the stakes keep me sharp. Without that crucible, I would not know where to push myself next.

Once I submitted the missing document and my husband’s unwavering support, the interview was over—and we passed. When my passport arrived, I consulted the traditional lunar calendar and chose May 11 for my departure: not only was it an auspicious date, but it also marked our wedding anniversary. Departing Taipei at 8:00 p.m. and arriving in Chicago at 9:00 p.m. local time, we reclaimed our romance in every time zone.

I booked my flight just before the May 14 deadline—the end of my six-month window. I didn’t need more time to learn English; I needed more days to savor Taiwan and revisit familiar places. Yet I shared none of this with friends. Having built my company from scratch, I’ve learned that the happier you are, the more you attract envy. Best to guard your joy and move forward on your own terms.

At Taoyuan Airport, I held Avocado’s leash—(that’s another story)—and headed straight for the EVA Air nonstop flight to Chicago. A direct flight meant less stress for my pet; choosing EVA was pure convenience. Flying first class wasn’t about status; it was to ensure Avocado enjoyed the quickest, gentlest trip, and because of that choice, Avocado was the only animal aboard bound for Chicago. Even the captain asked the flight attendants for updates on her. I knew that by flying first class, I could get Avocado off the plane fastest and bring her home sooner.

Arriving in Chicago proved perfect. My cousin lives there, and when my cousin-in-law saw the giant box of Kavalan Taiwanese whisky I carried, his delight was infectious. At customs, my heart pounded, but I had all the pet paperwork in order. When the officer saw my visa and learned I had a corgi, their attention shifted instantly. In less than thirty seconds, I was through U.S. Customs.

Because I was unfamiliar with the city, Avocado emerged from baggage claim in the cargo hold. I collected her first, then went through the final entry check. Under the officers’ watchful eyes, she stood alone by the conveyor belt at carousel nine. Friendly American travelers helped load her onto a cart, and even the customs officers assisted us as we exited into the terminal.

“Have I really cleared customs and arrived in America?” I wondered—until I saw my husband walking toward me, holding a bouquet of flowers.

I did it. I not only cleared customs but did so with my dearest Avocado by my side, together, arriving in the United States.