a house is not a home

Every so often I hear that Luther Vandross song and sigh…such a beautiful voice and such a powerful message in those lyrics. I’ve learned a few things about myself during this move. It was chaotic and stressful and I would have been lost if my neighbor-friend hadn’t shown up at the last minute to save me. Last week as I was scrambling to pack and paint and move my belongings, I realized I was nervous about doing it all on my own and yet I didn’t really have much choice. My friends in Philly were swamped and I couldn’t bring myself to hire a helper on Task Rabbit. Everything worked out in the end—it always does—but I have some work to do on the emotional side of things. I’ve made so many choices in my life and I’m okay with almost all of them; I don’t really have regrets. Yet at our Black Girlhood & Beyond event earlier this month, I closed by recalling the best piece of advice I learned in therapy: the defenses you needed as a child don’t always serve you as an adult. As a child I learned to rely only on myself; somewhere on my way to adulthood, I gave up on the idea of family (starting one of my own, at least) and tried to focus on community. Yet I moved to Philly a year ago and didn’t really do enough to connect with my neighbors. I felt like I was reaching out—as much as an introvert ever does—but I didn’t forge many friendships or professional relationships. I want things to be different in Lancaster and so far it looks like I’m on the right track. There’s an elementary school down the block; turns out my cable guy Anthony attended that school and so after he left yesterday, I reached out to their Facebook page and got an immediate, welcoming response. I visited my local schools in Philly and donated a huge stack of books to each one, but never got invited back to present. I guess I should have followed up but I want people to meet me half way. Here in Lancaster that’s happening already—I just got back from a meeting of the folks who run the wonderful African American heritage walking tour; I didn’t have too much to contribute since I only attended the tour a couple of weeks ago and they were all trained guides, but I enjoyed the conversation and connected with some friendly people who offered to meet for lunch and tell me more about the county. I got a ride home with a guide who lives at the end of my block and his son attends the elementary school I hope to present at this fall! Once again, I felt like I’d found “my people.”

I had some small disasters during the move—including a can of blue paint spilling all over my furniture during transit—but I didn’t freak out. By the time the movers got here and opened the truck to reveal the damage, I was so ready to move forward that I told them not to worry about it. They were more upset than I was! We got everything else moved into the apartment, and when two bigger pieces of furniture wouldn’t fit through one doorway, we fit them through another. Which means I now have two living rooms and it’s fine. I knew before leaving Philly that I needed to downsize; I donated 3 pieces of furniture but really it was those bigger items that needed to go. But, I reasoned, when I buy a house, I might want bigger furniture! Now I realize I don’t want a big house because then I’ll just fill it with more stuff. And I HATE stuff. I love beautiful things and it’s fun to see my belongings in this new space. But those things aren’t what make a house a home…I’m alone most of the time and most of the time I like it that way. But I want to make a real life for myself here and that means I’ve got to work harder to connect with folks. I need to OPEN my home to others. I need to contribute to my neighborhood. I just joined the Chestnut Hill Facebook group, and will get my library card tomorrow, and swing by the hardware store to see if I can locate a handyman to install a new air conditioner since the one I lugged from Brooklyn to Philly to Lancaster doesn’t even WORK anymore. And that’s okay, too—because the little one in my study window is keeping 2/3 of the apartment cool. I don’t have to rush to unpack. The apartment isn’t as clean as I might have liked and that’s slowing everything down. But there isn’t a deadline. I don’t have a gig until September 19 so I don’t have to travel or pack a suitcase or prep for anything till then. I’m collaborating with a great author on a new novel; the pitch went out late last week and we’ve got an editor interested already who wants to talk on Friday. I have two other contracts in process, and will ask around to see if a local bookstore might want to host a launch for THE DRAGON THIEF in October. I think Lancaster might be the right scale for me; Philly was slower and smaller than NYC but this city feels more intimate. It’s only two square miles! Tomorrow I head over to the local college’s track for my run since the county park is too far away. My muscles are still a bit sore from climbing on and off the step ladder to paint and hauling stuff up to the third floor for several hours on Monday. Those poor college guys were soaked with sweat because it was close to a hundred degrees. I didn’t hustle like they did but I did my part. That’s what I need to keep on doing—find a way to contribute. It serves me well as a writer to know how to sit back and observe those around me. But I need to be less of a bystander and more of a doer this time around. That is what will make Lancaster feel like home.