The kids were racing each other across the expansive, lush green backyard, dotted with a few old oak trees, when it started to rain. My eight-year-old, Cally, who has always been a bit cautious and disliked getting wet, started to freak out and sprinted the thirty yards or so to take shelter where we were on the back patio. The other four, more adventurous and carefree, embraced the afternoon shower. Leaving little footprints in the moist soil, they laughed, played, and danced. My wife and I hadn’t seen that kind of freedom from them in a very long time. Too many years being stuck in the cramped two-bedroom townhome while our family grew and grew. I looked down at Cally, who was grasping my hand and secretly yearning to go out there and play with her siblings.
“Go ahead, baby girl,” I encouraged.
Cally released her grip and sprinted out there to join her siblings in the rain festivities. My wife and I made eye contact and seeing the happiness in her beautiful brown eyes, I turned to our real estate agent and said, “We’ll take it!”