The first morning I walked through it after the closing, I stood in the empty living room and listened to the silence.

Not the lonely silence that follows a funeral.

A softer one.

A silence with room inside it.

Richard met me there to review the final documents.

We checked the title insurance, the homeowner’s policy, and the instructions I’d left for the property manager.

My financial adviser had cautioned me against making decisions merely because my bank account would allow them.

I had chosen a comfortable home, not a palace.