Every once in a while, I’ll be scrolling through Instagram and see a familiar space — a deck, a kitchen, a front porch I know by heart.
It’s the same place I first saw as a tiny square on the MLS.
The same one I stood in during an inspection, but now it is where the family pup watches for squirrels.
I’ll recognize the backsplash, the angle of the sunlight through a certain window, or the way the deck boards curve slightly near the railing.
But it’s different now.
Now, it’s theirs.
Maybe it’s a Fourth of July cookout photo — kids running barefoot through the yard we once debated fence height on.
Or a Christmas cookie assembly line at the kitchen island where we once asked, “Should we write an offer?”
I can picture the same corner where we found all the garage key fobs and laughed about how many there were, now filled with family and life.
These are the moments that stop me mid-scroll.
Because what I see in those photos is more than a happy homeowner post — it’s my hall of fame. My wall of honor.
It’s proof that they did it.
They found their slice of Maryland — and they’re living it.
And I suppose that’s what home really is —
a place that keeps evolving long after the ink dries.
Where memories stack like paint layers,
and I get to see the before and after in the best possible way —
the before we dreamed about it,
and the after where they made it theirs.
Every photo feels like a quiet little thank you,
and I hold them close —
each one a reminder of why I love what I do.
