My bag contained the papers I'd need, shoes more suited for rain, and a book I felt I needed with me in the moment. As I cleared the metal detector and looked around for where to go, two women stood up and started walking toward me before I noticed. My lawyers were early.
There's a song lyric that fit the moment all too well. "The waiting is the hardest part." I'd waited years to be ready. Months to get to the front of the queue. Weeks for my appointment. Now it was down to minutes, and they ticked slowly, but we chatted to pass the time. When the judge came out, she ruled on another woman's case before mine. I gathered she was anglicizing her name. I felt for her, as it seemed she'd gone it alone. Then it was my turn. I confirmed the spelling and thanked the judge when she complimented my name.
Shortly thereafter I parted company with my attorneys (thanking them as well) before getting a few certified copies, grabbing a bite with my spouse (who'd appeared just before the judge did, thankfully) and then running to and fro across downtown to start changing every bit of my legal existence. It wouldn't be simple, but I didn't care. I'd reached my goal, and a few hours later, I had my prize.