They Thought My Beach House Was Foreclosed—I Let Them Believe It

around three sides. When I’d first walked through with my realtor, it had smelled like old carpet and mildew. My parents called it a “money pit.”

But stepping onto that deck, looking at the Pacific, I’d known. I’d seen more than a house—I’d seen a lab, a sanctuary, a base where my work and life didn’t have to be separate pieces.

Now, years later, the continue reading …