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How timing, luck, and naiveté got us our first home
It started with an urgent text. Then another. And another.
Since COVID had grabbed hold of the US three months earlier, we hadn’t seen many of our friends and for Father’s Day, James and his buddy were golfing on the recently re-opened course. Meanwhile, at home, I prep our celebratory late lunch and perused the neighborhood real estate listings — one of my favorite, yet most frustrating past times.
After eight years of renting, James and I knew we wanted to stay in our neighborhood and thought we were ready to buy, but COVID had crippled the market. Owners grew nervous about strangers wandering through their houses and de-listed their homes, and the country’s economy shut down creating an uncertain future. It was not an ideal time to be buying, but we thought we were prepared.
When I saw the new listing on Father’s Day, my heart skipped. The house was smaller than our massive rental, but with our oldest son off at college and our middle son leaving in a year, James and I wanted to downsize. This house, with all its numerous windows and wood floors, looked perfect.
Finally, after no response to my texts, I called James.
