I imagine waking up for the first time in my new room. I don't expect to wake up confused. My mind has been here for months. Even if we are up with Kellen three times, I still feel rested, peaceful.
I imagine making my first dinner in our new kitchen. It smells warm, of garlic and rosemary.
I imagine organizing my office, assembling my desk. I can see myself writing on my laptop with the Pottery Barn desk I've been coveting for years. This summer I will be able to look out on my Hydrangeas, which remind me of Anne Geddes and babies.
I imagine Kellen crawling around upstairs (sooner rather than later... and with a baby gate), following me as I organize my house.
As of Saturday, I no longer have to imagine.