I recently sold a condo to a couple, their first home together but, this is a love story.
A true story that got this old dried out sales guy, to well, get all sort of warm and gooey. Kind of resorted my faith in the younger generation, in right wins over wrong and in, yes love.
My buyers were young newlyweds. Not only that but both were foreign born coming from different parts of the old Soviet Union. Both after finishing old world “University” training, had decided to leave the security of their families and move solo to Seattle hoping for the promise of a better life with more opportunity. Not so very different than many others before them, like my own Pappa who made the trip when only 17.
Traveling so, halfway around the world, they found each other in the very strangely different and wonderful world of Seattle at a coffee bar. Sometimes we locals forget just how lucky we have it and need a fresh view from another’s prospective. A view full of awe and wonder. The same is true of love, after all this is a love story.
They both worked very hard at their high tech jobs fueled by their career success and financial recognition. As such I had a difficult time ever seeing them together. When those together times did happen, I felt very much the intruder, so kept my distance. The result was I got to know them individually, learning about the homes they had each left behind and their dreams for a new world. One requirement became very evident early on. A jetted soaking tub in the master bath. I guess in soviet public housing a tub is communal, shared by many. But I digress, after all this is a love story.
Being the high techies that they were, each did their own computer home “For Sale” searches. Then I would get the call to meet him or her (never together) and check out the possibilities. This is when I started to take notice of something I found very different, that they both shared. I become so taken with the phenomenon, I would actually make an effort to trip them up. Neither ever took the bait because this is after all, a love story.
When I would ask, as the selected home was being toured, “Do you like it?” he would always answer from his wife’s prospective. ” I think Katia needs this or that…..” would be his typical response. Never, not once, did he ever tell me what he wanted, other than to make Katia happy. I warned you that this was a love story.
When touring with Katia, “Do you like it?” would be answered with, “Nicholas should feel proud of his home. I want to help him make a home that he wants to share with his friends and family.” Never did I hear from her what she wished for herself.
Each had as their goal to meet the needs of the other. Isn’t that what love is, to put someone else above self? To actually see it being done so naturally and effortless in true balance between these two brought into focus how twisted our expectations are of love. For love expects nothing.
It is my custom to provide a gift to my clients after the successful completion of their pursuit. A way of thanking them for allowing me to travel along with them for awhile as they move their lives forward. But this time was different. First Nicholas offered me a artfully decorated canister of tea from this homeland when I handed him the keys to his new home. Then Katia followed by presenting me with a jar of jelly, made by her mother from berries picked near their ancestral home on the other side of the world. Neither said a word in their act. I just stood there, dumbfound … but, this is a love story.