If I can believe it, I'm home.

Do you ever have a moment where you think--

Wait.  Is this for real?

Because I have been having those moments, 

frequently, over the past few days.

All would point toward this little cottage 

being fully and officially mine;

I've made my first cups of tea and coffee,

and enjoyed the fact that if I stand in the middle of the kitchen and pivot on one foot, everything I need is within my reach. 

I have rested in my snuggly chair with book and God,

and in my cozy bedroom under the eaves.

All of the boxes have been unpacked and 

all of their contents have been placed perfectly away.

[And by the way--if ever there is a need for beverages, 

I think I might be well equipped to handle it...]

After an uneventful trip across town

even my piano has joined me,

which causes me to say: 

Believe it kid, you're home.

And if I need even more proof that this is really real, 

here it is:

 I've received a welcome loaf of bread from a kind neighbor 

(because this really is a magical place...)

cut my first flowers,

had my first dinner party,

and received my first letter.

So I think the evidence is in.  And I think it will do.  

I think it will do quite nicely.

And maybe sometime soon I'll actually be able to believe it--

This little cottage is indeed my home.