Home is important. Maybe that's what has drawn me to my career.
I sell houses. No, I sell homes.
There are a lot of things that make us into the people we are today. One of them is home. The home we grew up in. The home where our grandparents lived. The homes of family members we saw on summer vacations. Homes where we were around family and friends and where we created memories that last a lifetime.
This is the story of a little bungalow built in 1937. My grandmother bought it when she moved to the city from the farm. My dad and uncles lived here when they were boys. My Uncle Leroy lived here as an adult.
He called me in 2008 asking if I could help him find a painter and, of course, I said yes. I hadn't been in the house since 1981 when my Grandmother Katherine died. I was eleven then. It had been 27 years. I wondered if it would be the same. A lot of things had changed for sure, but bascally - it was.
And that was when I fell in love with a little house in Riverside. I remembered it from when I was a little girl. And started dreaming of what it could it could be again.