The House with the Purple Door

I saw it first on Zillow. Three bedroom, one and a quarter bath, ten acre lot. Interested, I clicked on it. Two barns looked a bit odd to me. They were long and narrow, with a red front and white side walls. The house itself seemed cozy though. A red deck occupied the front. Trees surrounded the place. And the door to welcome in all guests was purple. 

I sent the link to Allen along with another property that boasted of fruit trees. Allen replied saying how much he loved the other property I sent to him. The house with the purple door was almost forgotten about.

Several days later we drove to my parents for a visit. On the way home I mentioned to Allen that we should go see that place I had told him about. After meandering several gravel roads, we found it, tucked right in the middle of nowhere. That's exactly what I loved the most about it. I imagined slowly driving these gravel roads anytime we would come home. It felt right. 

Life went on. The place with the fruit trees sold. Allen has said to me before that he's not quite sure why I browse Zillow so often. "I'm not on the market to buy," he said. But then one day we sat down and had a heart to heart. He told me that our family needs more space to breath, more opportunities to watch the sun set, and more area to roam free. We booked a visit to the house with the purple door. 

The showing was on a Friday. We saw the cute house and the long buildings that I found out later were chicken barns. We explored the spacious yard and guessed at the species of its trees. We admired the loaded apple tree. We dreamed what could be done with the hay field in the back. We looked at our realtor and asked "How long do we have to decide?" Not long, we found out. They gave us until Saturday afternoon to get an offer in. 

We talked only for a few minutes and realized this was the right choice. We put in an offer and waited. My mind ran wild planning paint colors and a basement grocery store. Then I remembered, we might not be able to get it. Our offer may not be accepted. 

"Congratulations!" Our realtor told us the next day. Our offer had been accepted and we were filled with gratitude. That night, I asked Allen if he liked the purple door on the house. "No, not even a little bit." Oh well, I guess I won't be able to call it "The House with the Purple Door" much longer... But that's okay with me.