Not every new chapter begins with fanfare. For Sarah and me, it began quietly — on Maple Lane, guided by Linda, a longtime neighbor and real estate agent.
The house at 247 wasn’t flashy, but it felt lived in, loved, and full of possibility. As we walked through each room, Sarah imagined birthdays and holidays; I saw backyard barbecues and sawdust-filled projects.
More than the house, it was the neighborhood that won us over — families who stayed, neighbors who waved, and traditions that endured. Weeks after moving in, when a neighbor’s car broke down, the whole block gathered to help, turning a nuisance into community. That’s when we knew: we hadn’t just bought a house. We’d found home.