If I were buying my first house again, THIS is the house I would buy. Tree canopies arch over Northcrest’s wide streets, turning sunlight into flickering lace. The pavement shimmers, dappled, hushed, almost holy. Kids walk home from the Northcrest swim-tennis club in flip-flops, wet towels tied around their necks like capes. A golf cart hums past. Neighbors wave. A screen door claps shut. Bare feet meet warm concrete. “Dinner!” someone calls. At 3389 Lori Lane, the yard holds pastel colored azaleas in spring and a lush grassy backyard ready for corn hole tournaments and weekend gatherings. The house sits steady on its half-acre, corner lot. A classic split-level with a dignified posture. Inside, the past lingers gently. Matching wallpaper and a valance above the kitchen sink. The thud of cereal bowls. The hush of creamer swirling into morning coffee. A backyard bird feeder where cardinals show up like clockwork. New windows blink slow. They hold the cool air in, and let the afternoon light pour across the oversized living room. Thick, sideways beams stretch over the hardwood, floors someone once danced on. Or tiptoed across after sneaking in after midnight. It smells like dryer sheets and clean cotton towels on Sunday. In July, potlucks and backyard cookouts. In October, the Halloween parade brings out ghosts and giggles. And every Black Friday, the neighborhood gathers for a festive market of homemade gifts, sweet treats, Santa pictures and community spirit. By evening, porch lights glow and laughter can be heard around dinner tables. Families together talking about their day, planning their future. The neighbors are the kind of people who water your plants when you’re out of town, lend you sugar, and know your dog’s name. This wasn’t a house that changed the world. It’s a house that held one. 3389 Lori Lane is waiting and ready to hold yours.