A House Has Walls, but a Home Has a Soul: Looking Back on a Turning Point

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I had been in the industry for about seven years when I met them. At that point, I felt like a pro. I knew how to scan a house for defects, how to talk up a renovation and decoration, and how to sell the visual "dream" of a house. I thought I knew exactly what made a property valuable.

The couple was like many others, except for one thing: the husband was living with vision loss.

As we walked through the first few listings, I noticed a fascinating dance unfold. His partner would focus on the things I was trained to highlight—the color of the cabinets, the modern fixtures, the "look" of the space, and the natural light. But he was looking for something else entirely.

While she and I discussed the floor plan, I would see him move quietly to the center of the room. He wasn't looking at the walls; he was feeling the air. He’d run a hand over a door frame or stand still to catch the vibration of the wind or street noise outside.

This room feels cold," he remarked about a kitchen that, to my eyes, looked stunning and bright. "But the living room... it feels like it’s inviting me to stay and start a fire."

I realized then that, over my almost-decade of "seeing" and "showing" houses, I had been missing the heartbeat of the home. He didn't care about the crown molding or the trendy paint colors. He cared about the flow, the temperature, the acoustics, and the energy. He was searching for the soul of the space—the parts of a house that remain when you close your eyes.

For the four decades that followed, I carried that lesson with me. I still looked at the "curb appeal" and did all the other things a good agent does, of course, but I always made a point to take a moment to stand still, to "listen," and to "feel" the house. I did this to find its soul—to feel if it would make a good home. Because of that one afternoon, I pretty much stopped selling houses and started helping people find a home with a soul that made them feel good.

It is easy to get lost in the "stats." We tend to focus on square footage, comps, and staging. We spend our days perfecting the visual pitch. But that afternoon taught me that our true value isn't just in showing a property—it’s in understanding how our clients actually experience the space.

As you walk through your next listing, I challenge you to take a minute to look past the "surface" and:

• Listen to the house: Does it feel quiet and tucked away, or does it hum with the energy of the neighborhood?

• Feel the flow: Does the transition from room to room feel natural, or is there a tension in the layout?

• Check the "climate": Beyond the HVAC, does the home feel warm and inviting, or sterile and distant?

Of course, our clients will always ask about the roof and property taxes, but if they are looking for a home, they will stay because of its soul. I’ve learned that many of the best agents don't just have an eye for detail—they have a heart for the intangible—they can feel and verbally describe the soul of a home.

When we help a client find a home that feels right with their eyes closed, we’ve done more than close a deal. We’ve found them a sanctuary, and we've earned their trust, respect, and referrals.

At the end of the day, a house is more about what you see, but what makes it a home is what you can feel.

Until next time, keep your standards high,

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About the Author: I am a retired real estate professional with a career spanning 45 years. Throughout decades of market changes, I remained dedicated to the idea that real estate is about more than square footage—it’s about the human experience. Today, I write about the lessons learned from a lifetime of helping people find the place that truly feels like home, hoping that sharing these insights will help the next generation of agents better serve their clients and find fulfillment in their own careers.

(C) 2026 Jeff Sorg