July 17, 2012 by Colleen Morris
The question that kept going through my head a month ago, was whether or not we were going to renew our lease again? It was up in August. And the school year was just around the corner. Our beautiful 2nd floor loft was getting smaller. Toys were burying the floor, and closets packed tight with old winter coats and strollers. We have been in this building for six years, and I knew of no other place to call home. However, I was itching for a change of scenery. A change of lifestyle. We both were. So we started our search.
At first, we found a few hopefuls through various realtor listings. Only to find out, those homes were already taken. Then we looked at a few dumps found on Craig’s List. In very expensive neighborhoods, zoned for very good schools. But our thought of suburban lifestyle living did not equate to inadequate shared backyards and basements suitable for hoarders. Renter beware.
We also met with a lawyer-turned-realtor whose grin was eerily like the Grinch’s. That meeting was super brief, after she left me waiting in the lobby for nearly 20-minutes, with no word. Then with no apology, proceeded to tell me that my children sleeping in the car would “not work” for her. Dazzling me with her polished professionalism, Ms. Grinch insisted I sign a contract to see the listings. I passed.
After my brother-in-law told me about the excellent schools and charming qualities of this other quaint beachside town— two towns over from where we were originally looking, we then decided to expand our search. After all, we were finding that decent rental listings were far and few between in primarily home-owned communities. And nothing was coming up in our budget or criteria.
Two weeks later, I got a phone call from a sales manager from a nice complex in this new town— and there was an apartment available on the exact date we wanted to move, in our price range, meeting our space requirements, and proximity to the train. So we made an appointment to go see it.
It was on my 36th birthday. We made the drive up from Brooklyn, checkbook in hand. A charming stone wall trimmed the private community. A like-new paved road led you to the clubhouse. An hour-glass shaped heated outdoor pool welcomed us. The kids fell in love with the on-site playroom and playground. The model unit was nearly perfect. And the humming of Metro North passing by was comforting. This was our new home. An ideal transition from Brooklyn to the Burbs.