Iowa born and raised, my first 20 years of life were spent making memories on our family acreage outside the city limits. Out on a county highway which divided the cornfields, my three older brothers and I were blessed to have one of those childhoods that our own kids hear about, time after time. Running barefoot in the grass and getting muddy in the creek, this chapter of childhood holds volumes of images we can play back in our heads. As a family of six, we were lucky to accumulate a large assortment of soccer friends over all those years. All four of us kids played soccer, so naturally, we had an ideal spot to host many friends at once while grilling out and playing in the backyard on the freshly painted soccer field our Dad would line spray for us kids. No need for cleats. No need for a referee. Just a bunch of laughing kids of all ages, hyped up on Hi-Ci juice boxes, (which Mom would need to remind us to pick up the next morning). We played barefoot most nights, and when it got too dark to barely see in the backyard, we would simply move the game to the front yard under a single light pole which illuminated a good portion of the yard near the highway atop our front lane.
This was especially good if my team were behind in score. Our driveway was all gravel, scattered with various sized rocks. There never was an "out of bounds" while playing soccer in the front yard, so this made it easy to herd out our visiting barefoot friends who popped out from the City. If you grew up in the country, you know EXACTLY where I am going with this! ;) Us siblings were immune to running barefoot on rocks, and our friends were not. This so-called-art, helped tremendously in recent years as a Mother who now lives in the heart of West Des Moines, but has had two kids that loved to leave their Lego's scattered on the floor for us to find in the middle of the night. :)
If you have read this far, you may be wondering why I chose to share this simple memory of yesteryear, instead of explaining all the ways I could help you through your next move, if you were to choose me as your Realtor.
Looking back, my formative days were well spent chasing fireflies, soccer balls, and quite a few dreams. It was never a fancy house. We did not have a lot of expensive things, yet none of this mattered. My point is, sometimes you do not set out to choose the house you think will be what you want. Sometimes, the house just kind of chooses you. I have seen it time after time and this is one of the biggest reasons I absolutely love what I do for a living.
Home is where you spend time with the ones or things you love most. It is not a venture anyone should rush through. It may take weeks, months or over a year. This is normal, and if you can take away anything right now from this message, never allow an Agent to pressure you into offering or accepting a contract. If it is right, it will feel right. You should be feeling happiness while house hunting, not Pressure. You should be allowed to process your emotions, no matter what they be, especially if it is a bittersweet move, or maybe one you have been dreading. You need a friend during these times, not just a Realtor.
As your Friend and Realtor, my goal is not to only guide you to a perfect looking house.
I can sleep well at night when I’ve helped you walk into the house that begs you HOME
Lets Find Home.
- Alisha Stewart
