The lucky one

Tonight I sit in the kitchen of the home I just sold. This is my last night here. Three years of love, hate, lust, boredom, laughter, sadness – life. Four walls, people, pets, computers, and radios. All working together, synchronized to the unpredictable beat of life. Over.

The first time I saw the home, a dear real estate agent friend of mine had purchased it from a young military couple. I had just moved to Fort Worth from San Diego (and so had she) in 2006. It wasn’t long until I spent most of my time at this home and in this neighborhood. It made sense to me. The details were absolutely magnificent. Large wooden doors with carefully crafted glass hardware. Old creaking hardwood floors. A clawfoot tub. A beautfiul backyard patio (at least thats how I saw it). Every time I came to this home it felt…warm.

Eventually my friend moved back to San Diego and she rented the home to a large conglomerate of people and animals. Its only 1400 square feet, so I think it was over capacity at this point.

Years later she wanted to sell the home, but with the condition it was in – it never quite ‘spoke’ to someone the same way in which it spoke to me when she had lived in it. It was a mess. No luck selling. It seemed no one else had seen the potential that I had seen. What was wrong with them?

I knew another girl though, with a similar outlook on life, who I thought might see the same qualities in the home that I did – even in its current state, so I brought her here anyway.

I was right. She loved it. And so, we bought it together. We painted this room, but not the other. We fixed this, but we left that. We raised a puppy and hosted parties. We had our share of date nights and fight nights. The imperfections were perfect.

Moving on

I always wondered what was so magical about that home?

As I take people to look at houses – I wonder what makes a home magical to them? If they had seen mine – would they have felt the same way about it as I had? And I realize the answer is no.

The magic behind the magic is powerful. You see, we try to see the future when we look at homes. We stand in foreign bedrooms, kitchens, and backyards and imagine our lives in that very spot. Our laughs, our furniture, our friends, our families. And if we see it, the possibility of living those future moments out in that house…we move forward.

And so I dont really think there is a perfect house, in the physical form at least. There exists only possibilities.

The girl and I left that home on separate paths. And thats ok. Our time there brought us where we needed to go.

And now, I have a different four walls to live in. And I’m just as excited about it. Sure, it has a beautiful backyard for the puppy, and thats great. But its the intangible things that make it special. The future love, hate, lust, boredom, laughter, and sadness.

Our experiences make the perfect home. And so, I never feel like my clients are the lucky ones when they finally move forward.

It’s the house who is the lucky one.