Today I am flying to Anaheim, California, for Star Wars Celebration Anaheim. I am writing this post from the past (meaning I wrote it Monday and scheduled it for Tuesday).
The chances of me being 500 percent excited for the con are so good making a bet on them would be foolish—unless you’re Han Solo.
On top of getting ready for Celebration, over the weekend my husband and a few friends moved all our belongings into our new house (I had to work). Sunday night was the first time I slept in my very own house that belongs to me because I bought it.
As I got ready for bed, I felt a sickening sense of dread because of the late-night campfire my neighbors were enjoying and the whine of motorcycles on the highway at the bottom of the hill. Laughter and bad country music drifted up to my third-floor window with the motorcycle noise.
I worried I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I worried this would happen every night. I worried I had made a fatal mistake in purchasing a house—well, this house, specifically. What was I thinking? This is a real neighborhood, with children and families and people whose families have lived in Pittsburgh for generations and generations. I worried I wouldn’t belong.
But my neighbors quieted down around eleven and I reminded myself that everyone I had seen outside had introduced themselves. They aren’t shunning me because I don’t have kids, and they will probably care more that I chose to live in Pittsburgh than that I’m from Philadelphia (ish).
I fell asleep quickly, and didn’t dream, or don’t remember my dreams.
I woke to the melody of birdsong: new notes mixed in among the familiar robins and sparrows. I’m not good at identifying birds by their songs, but I hope to get better. Once I get my bird feeders set up, I’ll get a look at the kinds of birds living in my neighborhood, and then start my birdsong education from there.
My new house is still a construction zone, and it seems like the work will never be finished. I know it will, though, and when it is, I will have a beautiful place that I can truly call home.