I walked by our first house the other day.  It brought back so many memories and a realization: that little house was the catalyst for my career in real estate.

It was the spring of 2007. Our son Owen’s first Birthday was fast approaching and our daughter Isabella would be starting kindergarten before we knew it.  We didn’t have a specific timeline, but home ownership seemed like the next logical step.   We had looked at homes online, but never in person.  Zillow was barely a year old so virtual tours were nothing like they are today. We weren’t preapproved and didn’t have a real estate agent. Basically we were the poster children for what NOT to do when you’re buying a house.    It was all very casual until a house around the corner from my husband’s childhood home was listed. I’m still not sure if it was the location or the price that got us in the car to check out the open house.  It was a 1930 gambrel colonial with a farmer's porch and it was in need of major repair. Every surface needed attention and yet as we walked around, the din of age and neglect began to wear off in my mind’s eye. I saw the joy the walls once held and I knew that where their story ended, ours would begin. It was the first and only house we looked at. 

Clueless and practically penniless, we bought it. Renovating that home was one of the hardest and most fantastic things we have ever done. I think my husband would have been happy to stay there forever.  He loved the location and when we finished the house 3 years later, he was ready to sit back and relax. Unfortunately for him, I was hooked and wanted to do it all again. Besides, I argued that we could use a little more space and another bathroom.  He very reluctantly agreed.  After the first open house we received a full price offer and he was mad.  I can still remember his reaction as he stood in the doorway arms crossed and said, "We don't have to sell it, do we?"  

We found a slightly bigger house in need of renovation a couple miles away and once again got to work.  As work neared completion 2 years later, I felt the same pull.  This time, he agreed to sell with one caveat; I had to promise that this would be our last move.  Then he suggested that maybe I should help other people move instead.  I’m not sure how he knew, but 8 years later, I still love helping people find the place where their story begins or where they’ll write the next chapter. Sometimes I get a little jealous and wish I was still buying, fixing and moving every couple years, but mostly I’m just thankful to Ken for putting his foot down so my career in real estate could be born. For the record, we did end up moving one more time after that, but who’s counting?