When the Mountains Called

For a little over two years now, our family has called the mountains of western North Carolina home. I’ve held this story close for a while, but now feels like the right time to share how we got here — and why.

For most of our marriage, I worked in real estate while Nick built custom homes. As any self-employed couple knows, the work never really stops. We hustled hard. Nick’s days stretched long, and I tried to keep mine within the kids’ school hours, but balance was always elusive. Our goals were big, and our dreams even bigger.

We spent years creating, building, selling, and starting over again. Friends and family never understood how easily we picked up and moved — I lost count after our 12th move — but for us it was about building toward freedom.

Then came 2020. We sold what we thought was our dream home to a family relocating during Covid. With real estate moving at a lightning pace, building again seemed like the smartest choice. We tucked into a little rental in a great location, telling ourselves it was temporary. We had no idea how much life was about to change.

Those years were full of highs and lows. Our businesses thrived, yet the world felt heavy. Supply chain delays and industry pressures made time feel frozen. Life was chaotic — work, school, activities, repeat.

Then one winter day in 2021, in the midst of the busyness, I found myself scrolling Zillow. A tiny two-bedroom with a view in the mountains — my happy place — had just been listed. Without even calling Nick, I reached out to the agent. By lunch I’d made an offer, and by dinner I’d booked tickets to see the home we were buying sight unseen.

That little house gave us two unforgettable summers in the mountains. But each fall, returning to Sarasota felt harder. I craved the slowness, the intentional rhythm, the meaningful moments we’d discovered in the mountains. Why couldn’t we still dream big while also choosing family first?

By Thanksgiving of 2022, our “what if” conversations turned serious. On that trip we walked a piece of land Nick found just outside of town. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and it felt like a park — peaceful, timeless, ours. We started calling it The Park. It felt like home.

Back in Sarasota, things quickly became real. The girls were guaranteed spots at the local school. Our home sold within 48 hours of listing. On the very same day, we went under contract on The Park. The way it all lined up felt seamless, like a God-wink.

As spring rolled in, questions from friends and clients grew. What were we doing? Where were we going? Were we building again? I stayed quiet, holding the details close until the time was right.

Finally, as the school year drew to a close, it was time to tell the girls. They were finishing 6th and 3rd grade when we sat them down and shared the news: we were moving to the mountains. We promised them a big yard to run in, space to breathe, and no more moving — at least not for a long while.

And to our relief, they took it beautifully.

✨ To be continued…