When we entered the home buying process, we were clear, we wanted a home. We wanted a place we could root ourselves in — raise our daughter, built our lives and fill the space with laughter, connection and memories. The process was personal for me and when we found our home, I wanted to connect with the sellers one of the only ways I knew how — through my words. In most states in the US you have the opportunity to write a seller a “love letter’ to express why you want to buy their home and what it means to you to be in the space. The pandemic has dramatically shifted the way these letters are used and viewed with the market skyrocketing and sellers having no shortage of people willing to overpay for homes. But we were lucky. We found a seller who was interested in both — a fair offer and good people. And through this letter, we found our home. Now, I want to share it with you:

From one family to another:

Thank you for the opportunity to spend time in your beautiful home. It's weird to write a letter to someone you'll never really know — although it was lovely to briefly run into you this afternoon in the garage — yet there can be such a powerful connection with through a house that both of us have and/or want to call home. 

I cannot imagine what it is like to sell your home. A place filled with so many memories and marks of your story — good, bad, mundane and life-changing. Your house is an integral part of your life fabric. Bringing it into your life, allowing it into your story, and then saying goodbye is powerful. The house will forever be a part of you, and you a part of it. 

I never understood the idea of a house being home until February 2020. I spent most of my life moving. I grew up with a single mom who suffered from a severe and persistent mental illness that led us to move around a lot and, eventually, led me to live with other family. By age 13, I had lived in 9 different homes and with three other families. In this, I learned not to settle into any place or relationship for too long; I had grown to believe everything and everyone would leave — it was too painful to invest. And while that kept me safe, it was lonely and lacking. 

My daughter was born in February 2020 and in that, I committed to writing a different story — for me and for her. And then, just two weeks after she was born, and we were starting to feel like we found semi-solid footing, we were hit with a global pandemic.

We were both new parents in a world that no longer felt safe yet had a baby that depended on us and professionals in fields that were needed now more than ever — my husband, Jordan, an emergency medicine physician and I a licensed mental health therapist.

While our chosen career paths have always been challenging, the past few years have compounded the effects. The work we do demands our whole selves. Being the parents and partners we want to be requires our whole hearts. And creating the lives we want individually and collectively means giving our full selves and letting go of the fear things might not work out and instead doing what we can to create the best life in the space and time we have. 

The real estate market is interesting right now. Half a dozen realtors told me to be okay with finding a starter home or that we could always move again in a few years. I get it. For reasons chosen and not, that is the reality for many people. But not for us. I’m done moving. I don't want a house. I need a home. I want my daughter to have a home she grows up in. I want her to get to know her school and stay there beyond a year. I want her to be okay investing and rooting.

I spent years talking myself out of the right to dream or get excited about the future. Even deciding to buy a home, I was excited but skeptical. When we started looking, it was what I expected. Cool houses. Modern remodels. They all felt the same —  sterile and impersonal. And the panic and scarcity that has been layered on top of this as a buyer — and I am sure in different ways as a seller — has made it even more transactional and dismissive. It felt a bit like we were going through the motions but I was trying to lean into the process, even if reluctantly. 

And then, we walked into your home and everything changed. I felt it. I felt rooting. I felt connection. And as soon as I turned to Jordan, I could tell he felt it too. Your home felt special — it is special — and it is the place where the 3 of us felt like we need to be.

I immediately starting seeing us in the space. The side room in the basement would become a maker space where my daughter (and us) can paint, build and create. We would have s’mores nights on the patio and practice soccer in the backyard. Everly’s room would be the blue one and we would add a mountain scene in the background and build a reading corner near the windows. Under the basement stairs, we would convert the little cupboard into a play space for her to play kitchen.  Near the back window, a sensory and art table where we can create and be inspired by the beauty in the yard. We would have movie nights lounging on bean bags in the living room and bird watch out the back in the early mornings. Everly's learning tower would fit perfectly in the kitchen where she could be at counter height cooking with me. In the summers, the patio doors would be open as we transitioned from inside to outside, grilling, prepping food, playing bubbles and dancing to, most likely, the Frozen or Coco soundtrack.

For Jordan, it was the idea he could rest in this space. It was prominent not only in the house but in the intention and style of the backyard. For someone whose schedule is ever-changing, he needed a place he could feel at ease, to sleep in the middle of the day after a night shift or be able to meditate and slow himself down to balance out the chaos of his work. As he walked from room to room, he talked about the feeling of space and solace he had — you can’t hear a sound from the roads moving through the house. He talked about the feeling coming home to this space after work gave him and in it, there was peace.

For Everly, it was the yard. She immediately took to exploring, telling me about what she would grow in the garden beds and where she wants a swing. She said there would be lots of birds coming to eat the “bird berry bushes” and that made her happy. She was excited for picnic lunches outside and told me when she saw the fire pit that she wanted to roast marshmallows and look for stars with her stargazer out here.

Again, I have no idea what it means to sell a house, and specifically, what it means to you. You get to choose how and in what terms you do it. It gets to be yours. And, we would be honored if we were the next to call this place home. I know forever is contextual and ever-changing but I want this place to be our forever home. 

Thank you for your time in reading a bit about my story and my families love and longing to call your home, ours. I wish you the best regardless of what happens and hope your next chapter brings you peace. 

Sincerely,

Kyira Wackett