ser·en·dip·i·ty/ˌserənˈdipitē/
Noun: The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way: “a fortunate stroke of serendipity”.
– Merriam-Webster
We never did look at another house.
We were driving ever so slowly through the tiny rural village when we saw the real estate For Sale sign on the front lawn. It was early July, everything was lush and vibrant, and the house was historically quaint and tidy. We craned our necks to take in the view as we crossed the bridge and pulled over to park. “I wonder what kind of people live here?” I distinctly remember asking aloud, lifting our bikes off the rack. We had taken a circuitous route and it felt like a long commute from the city.
We stared at the lovely Queen Anne that sat poised on the bank of the river, on an even lovelier piece of property. We were enchanted, but the timing wasn’t right and so we did not call.
In the fall, the sign was gone. We weren’t surprised, but we were slightly disappointed, as if the house had failed to wait for that timing to improve.
A year passed, we married, and took another weekend drive in the country. This time a For Sale By Owner sign had magically sprouted on the front lawn, peaking our curiosity. We took it as, well, a sign to call. We toured the house several times and recognized it needed work. For two months I conducted research while Husband commuted to Calgary. We had no experience with rural living, with septic systems and wells, 120-year-old houses, basements full of mummified spiders, or the social realities of small-town life. Still, the house “spoke” to us. We took a deep breath and signed the offer. On the day it was accepted, we found out I was pregnant.
In the spring we christened the house Casa dei Sogni, which is Italian for House of Dreams. Fourteen years, four children, thousands of dollars, hundreds of hours of labour, happiness and good fortune, and plenty of ups, downs and doubts later, this is home. It is the reason for not moving back to Vancouver, for my interest in old houses, for going to trade school to learn construction carpentry and for writing the piece you are reading right now. Not perfect, certainly, but definitely serendipitous.
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So how did YOU find your dream house property, apartment or cabin in the woods? Through real estate listings? A friend? A drive-by? Or did you inherit from your family? Is your dream house wherever you hang your hat? Or go on vacation? Or do you have a love affair with renting or being house-free?
Do you think there is some mystery in how and why people are attracted to particular houses? Why they end up in certain communities?
Do share.