I have often wondered why it is we believe we can "own" real estate. Somewhere, there are Real Estate Gods, and they are laughing their heads off. They know the truth: we don't own real estate. It owns us.

Saying you own real estate is like saying you own your child. You nurture. You invest money, time, love, and energy. Sometimes you are embarrassed. Sometimes you are proud. Instinctively you know, that this is a reflection of who you are, and a chance to make a difference. 

So you invest. It is an enormous responsibility, and yet it is an enormous joy. How can this be?

You understand that neglect will cost you dearly. You allocate your most precious resources, and you do it without a second thought.

Each child, like each piece of real estate, has their very own character and personality, like no other. There is only that one in the world. Etched upon each, the sands of time leave their mark. You don't always understand the result, and you don't always feel in control.

But if you are lucky, you always love. And you never fail to fall under the spell. It is pure enchantment.

Not yours for the keeping. Yours for temporary care and custody. You can never use it up. When it is broken, you can't throw it away. You can't give it to the thrift store because it is out of style. You can't recycle it, and you can't put it at the back of the closet and forget it. 

You're stuck with it. Gladly.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that someday, you will need to let go.  For a period of time that passed all too quickly, you had the privilege of molding. Of shaping. Of making something/someone better because of your influence. You changed the world, if only a very small piece of the world.

Forever.

You pulled the weeds. You shared celebrations and milestones. You saw years come and go together. But you never owned.

You nurtured. It is why being adopted means your real Mom and Dad are the ones who raised you and who loved you.  Not the ones who conceived you. You nurture because loving something gives the purest kind of joy. A joy that far transcends owning anything. 

So until there is a better word, we will continue to say we "own" our real estate. But listen very carefully when you say this.

The Real Estate Gods are laughing while you are planting daffodils in the back yard, hoping that next spring, they will bloom.

And only the Gods know that you secretly hope they will continue to bloom, long after you are gone.

Written by Janet Guilbault, California Mortgage Expert Based Out of the San Francisco Bay Area