We were in our mid 20s when we found it.

I was pining for a way out of our mundane existence at a nondescript apartment complex. Everything was beige. Everything was manicured. Nothing was ours.

Then I saw it—simple and unassuming. Its relevance to my life felt tangible. It seemed to look at me and stare the same way I was gazing upon it. It was a simple house—white with a modest front porch on a busy street facing a community rose garden. For fun, I showed it to my husband.

“Cool, let’s go look at it.”

Wait. Really? …

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