Rain Was Coming Down

Rain Was Coming Down

She almost didn’t come to the showing.

Rain was coming down in thin, stubborn sheets, the kind that makes every house look a little tired. The lawn was slick, the paint looked dull, and the “For Sale” sign leaned slightly to the left like it had given up.

“This one’s probably not it,” she said from her car.

But she stepped out anyway.

The house was a 1950s brick ranch — three bedrooms, one bath, original hardwood buried under carpet that had seen better decades. It smelled faintly of old books and lemon cleaner. The listing photos hadn’t done it any favors.

Still, she walked slowly through each room.

In the smallest bedroom, she paused. The walls were painted a pale yellow, uneven and clearly done by hand. In the corner, a growth chart was penciled directly onto the drywall.

1991

1990

1989

Names written in careful block letters.

She ran her fingers over the tallest mark.

The seller, an older man waiting quietly in the kitchen, noticed her lingering.

“That was my daughter’s room,” he said. “She insisted on the yellow. Said it looked like sunshine.”

He explained that his wife had painted it herself. That they’d argued about putting the growth chart on the wall. That every birthday, they’d measure, mark, and celebrate with cake in the backyard.

“My wife passed last spring,” he added gently. “House feels… bigger now.”

The buyer nodded. She understood big houses that felt too quiet. She’d been renting since her divorce, bouncing between spaces that never quite felt like hers. She wasn’t looking for perfect. She was looking for permanent.

When we stepped outside, she didn’t mention the outdated kitchen or the aging roof. She looked at the backyard instead — wide, fenced, full of possibility.

“My son turns six this year,” she said. “He’s growing like a weed.”

Two days later, she made an offer — not the highest the seller received, but the one that promised to keep the house alive. In her letter, she wrote that she hoped to keep the yellow. That she’d add new names to the wall, if he was willing.

At closing, the seller brought a small can of paint.

“In case you ever need to touch up the sunshine,” he said.

They both cried. Not because of the price. Not because of the paperwork.

Because homes are the only investments that remember us.

Real estate isn’t just about buying property — it’s about inheriting stories and choosing to continue them. The true value of a home lies in the life it holds and the memories still waiting to be made.

#LivingInPensacolaGroup #ColdwellBankerRealty

We can help you find your new home where you can truly live. Call today! Jaime Walker and Phil Baker from the Living In Pensacola Group™ at Coldwell Banker Realty. We have the experience and knowledge to help you make a smooth move!

(850) 429-4002

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The Living In Pensacola Group™ at Coldwell Banker Realty

Serving the Greater Pensacola area – Escambia County and Santa Rosa County Florida

Our office is in Pace Florida at 5561 Woodbine Road – Pace, FL 32571

You can reach us at (850) 429-4002, or by email at livinginpensacola@gmail.com

Rain Was Coming Down