This might be the best part of what I get to do.
Every tenant I meet belongs to a story much bigger than a lease — moms, dads, siblings, kids running through hallways that aren’t home yet but might be soon. And somehow, I get invited into that orbit, even if just for a moment.

Sometimes it’s quick — a handshake, a polite smile.
Other times, it turns into laughter, stories, and that easy feeling when people just click. I collect those moments gently. One day, maybe I’ll get them all out of my head and onto paper.

Today was one of those moments.

Sunny Thursday afternoon.
Hot fries, Tupac playing somewhere in the background, and a pair of little girls who decided I wasn’t just the guy showing the house — I was competition.

The youngest found a set of dice tucked away in the house, and just like that, we had ourselves a game. No hesitation, no awkwardness — just pure kid energy. They laughed, talked trash, and by the end of it, took me for $3.50 like seasoned pros. I didn’t even mind. Moments like that are worth way more than pocket change.

I’m lucky. I really am. Not because of the business itself, but because of the people it brings into my path — especially the kids who remind you how easy joy can be.

Every friend was once a stranger… even the little homies.

But the story doesn’t end in that warm snapshot.

Later, life circled back with a harder chapter. We eventually had to file an eviction on that same family. That’s the part of this work no one celebrates. The part where compassion and responsibility sit uncomfortably side by side. The yard had turned into a makeshift camp after they tried helping someone who needed a place to land. Things unraveled. Mess piled up — physically and otherwise.

Moments like that can make people cynical. They can make you believe everyone is trying to take advantage, that kindness always comes with a cost. But I don’t think that’s true. There are people who will push boundaries, sure. But there’s also so much good quietly happening around us — it just doesn’t make headlines or stick in our memory the same way disappointment does.

It’s like reviews. Bad experiences get written about instantly, fueled by frustration. Good ones slip by unnoticed because they felt normal, expected, unremarkable.

So here’s my small takeaway: when something good happens, acknowledge it. Say it out loud. Write it down. Thank the person. Notice the kindness, the laughter, the $3.50 dice games, the strangers who brighten an ordinary afternoon.

Because if you don’t go looking for the good, it’s easy to forget it was there at all.