Why We Moved to Brookline

There are places you live… and places you belong.

Boston was our leap of faith. We arrived in 2003 right after getting married – newly building our life, learning a new city, and trying to figure out what “home” would mean for us. Mara was at BU. I went straight into real estate, finally stepping into a passion I’d carried since I was young.

Real estate isn’t just a job when you care about it the way I do. It’s a front-row seat to people’s biggest decisions. It’s watching families dream out loud. It’s seeing what matters when the stakes are real: the light in the kitchen, the walk to school, the feeling you get when you stand in a doorway and think, I can picture our life here.

A few years in, we did what so many young couples do – we chose something that felt “perfect.”

In 2006, we sold our first Boton condo and bought a stunning 2 beds condo in Cambridge: River and City views. Skyline. Concierge. Gym. It was the kind of place you show your parents and think, we made it.

And we did.

But there was always a quiet truth underneath it:

It wasn’t forever.

As agents, we spent years helping clients across Greater Boston. We knew the neighborhoods the way chefs know ingredients – what each one offers, what each one costs, what you gain, what you give up.

And the more we saw, the clearer it became: there was one place that kept pulling us back.

Coolidge Corner.

Not because it’s fashionable. Because it’s rare. The kind of rare you only understand after you’ve seen everything else.

It had the life we wanted – without pretending.

We love the energy of a city. We like being able to move. To walk. To bump into people. To feel like there’s a pulse outside the front door.

In Coolidge Corner, your day isn’t built around a car. You can grab a coffee, pick up groceries, meet friends for dinner, hop on the T – without planning it like a military operation. I can scooter into Newbury Street when the weather’s nice. We live with the freedom of being close to Boston, without feeling like we’re living inside Boston.

It’s the city feel… with a neighborhood heart.

It felt like the world.

As an immigrant, I carried something with me that I didn’t want to lose: the feeling of being around different languages, different stories, different backgrounds – where nobody needs to “fit in” because everyone is different.

We didn’t want our kids growing up in a bubble. We wanted them to grow up in a place where diversity isn’t a headline – it’s Tuesday.

Coolidge Corner gave us that. Our kids’ friendships span cultures and countries. Their school community reflects the world. And every year, there’s one night that hits me right in the chest: Ridley’s International Night – families bringing homemade food from their home countries, sharing what they’re proud of, telling their stories without even saying a word.

As a father, it’s emotional. As a foodie, it’s heaven. As a human being, it’s a reminder: this is what community looks like when it’s real.

It had public schools we could believe in.

We believe in public education – not as an abstract idea, but as a value you live by. We wanted a neighborhood school where our kids would be known. Where they’d feel they belong. Where the school isn’t just a building – it’s a community.

Florida Ruffin Ridley (then called Devotion or “Devo”) had the reputation, yes – but more importantly, it had the feel. The kind of place where you can sense people care.

So we set our compass: this is where we’d raise a family.

The only question was: could we get in?

In 2010, we made our first offer in Brookline – on Saint Paul Street. It needed work, but it had space and potential. We could see it: the future, the kids, the dinners, the holidays.

We lost the house over a $15,000 gap.

That number might sound small until you’ve stood on the losing side of it – until you realize that in a town like Brookline, that gap can be the difference between “almost” and “your life.”

We were disappointed. But we also knew the truth that experience teaches you: in Brookline, good opportunities don’t come often. When the right one appears, you have to be ready.

So we stayed patient. We invested elsewhere. We kept watching. We kept learning.

And then life did what life does.

Stavi was born in January 2011. If you’ve ever held your first child and felt that sudden shift inside you – like your whole life reorganizes in one second – you know what I mean.

We loved our Cambridge building. The convenience. The amenities. The view.

But once you have a child, you stop buying square footage. You start buying life.

A year later, Ari arrived – and our two-bedroom condo didn’t feel charming anymore. It felt tight. Loud. Temporary.

We looked at each other and knew: we don’t need better. We need right.

So we went all in on Brookline.

We got fully approved. We got aggressive. We got strategic. We prepared for pre-offer inspections. We built an offer plan before the house even showed up – because in Brookline, the window is not weeks.

It’s hours.

In the fall of 2012, a single-family home came on the market in Coolidge Corner.

The listing photos were awful. The house needed everything. Every wall. Every system. It wasn’t “dated.” It was broken. Half the exterior bricks had fallen off.

Most people walked right past it.

But here’s what real estate teaches you – if you’re willing to see clearly:

Sometimes the best homes don’t look like homes yet.

They look like problems.

We were the first through the door at the broker open. One walkthrough was all we needed. We weren’t blinded by the mess – we were seeing the bones. The location. The possibility.

It was a blank canvas in the exact neighborhood we wanted, with no need to accept someone else’s compromises. No weird additions. No awkward layout that you “learn to live with.” We could build the home we actually wanted.

Six offers came in, many from cash developers.

We went all in. No contingencies. Clean terms. Strong positioning. Close anytime.

We won.

And I still remember that feeling. Relief. Gratitude. And a little fear, too – because we knew what we had just taken on.

We closed in December 2012.

Then came the part no one romanticizes: we sold both Cambridge condos, rented near Brookline High School, and started a gut renovation while carrying rent, mortgage, and construction costs at the same time.

It was intense. There were moments where it felt like we were holding our breath for a year.

Renovations test everything – your patience, your marriage, your optimism. You make a thousand decisions when you’re exhausted. You learn quickly that timelines are best-case fantasies. You realize how much a “small change” costs. You live in dust and spreadsheets and phone calls.

But there’s also a strange beauty in it.

Because you watch your life being built – literally.

Every framed wall is a promise. Every window installed is a future memory. Every finished room becomes a place your kids will grow into.

In September 2013, we moved in.

Stavi was two. Ari was one.

And for the first time, we weren’t just living in Greater Boston.

We were home.

Stavi and Ari started daycare on Harvard Street. In 2014, Liam was born. In 2017, Eliana.

Brookline didn’t just meet our expectations – it became part of who we are.

We love our neighbors. We love that our kids say hello to people at the playground because they actually know them. We love that they feel independent here – walking, biking, taking the T, running into familiar faces at the market.

And one day you look up and realize you’re living the thing you were chasing.

Your teenager is walking to Brookline High School with her girlfriends. Your kids know the neighborhood like it’s an extension of their house. They feel safe. They feel grounded. They feel like they belong.

And as parents, that’s the whole point.

Here’s the part of our story most people don’t know.

When I started in real estate in 2003, I wasn’t just an agent – I was a builder. My background was in computer science, and I saw something others didn’t: the internet was about to change everything.

This was before Zillow. Before the portals. Before anyone took online marketing seriously.

I built technology for luxury real estate when most agents were still relying on newspaper ads. The leads flew in. Within my first year, I was named Rookie of the Year by the Greater Boston Association of Realtors. By 2006, I joined Sotheby’s International Realty as they opened in Boston, and my focus on luxury condos hit another level.

That same year, Mara left her finance career and joined me.

The Bushari Team was born.

Our volume grew fast – almost too fast. In 2008, we made a decision that scared us and excited us in equal measure: we left to start our own brokerage. A small office with a single mission: buyers and sellers deserve a better real estate experience.

That year, the market collapsed. The recession hit. Boston was in shock.

We kept growing.

I was awarded the National Association of Realtors’ 30 Under 30 – recognition for tech innovation and sales volume at a time when most agents were just trying to survive.

Over the next decade, we built something bigger than we ever imagined. Fifty agents. Massive territory. Luxury condos in the city. New construction across Brookline and Cambridge. Ultra-luxury estates in Duxbury and Eastern Point, Gloucester. We were known for our marketing, our tailored approach, and our dominance in internet strategy.

We made the Inc. 5000 list as the fastest-growing real estate company in Massachusetts.

And then Compass came calling.

They saw what we had built. Same DNA: technology-first, values-driven, marketing-obsessed. We made the decision to sell and return to what we loved most: working directly with clients instead of managing a company.

We kept a team of ten. We kept serving Greater Boston.

And then COVID came.

There’s a moment in every life when the noise stops and you’re forced to ask: What actually matters?

For us, that moment was March 2020.

The world shut down. Everything stopped. 

And for the first time in nearly two decades, we had space to think.

We thought about our four kids. About the years that had blurred past in a rush of deals and deadlines. About what we were building – and whether it was still the thing we wanted.

That winter, we did something unexpected: we packed up the family and moved to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. We bought a beach house. And yes – we renovated it. But this time, the kids worked alongside us. They needed to see how it’s done. How you take something broken and make it yours. We called the house “Time Out”. 

When we came back to Brookline, we were different.

Not smaller. Refocused.

Not scaling back. Zeroing in.

We decided: no more serving everywhere. No more being generalists who “also do Brookline.” No more chasing volume for volume’s sake.

Just Brookline. Just our neighbors. Just the community we already belong to.

Today, we help the people who live here – and the people who want to.

We know every school zone because our kids attended them. We know which blocks flood and which ones don’t. We know the buffer zones, the zoning quirks, the unwritten rules. We built a system that maps every listing to its exact school district using official town data – not estimates.

We’re not trying to be the biggest.

We’re trying to be the best at one thing: helping families find home in the place we love.

Because we’re not just agents who sell Brookline.

We’re people who fought to get in.

We know what it’s like to lose by a hair and wonder if you’ll ever get another shot. We know what it feels like to be staring at a listing at midnight, calculating strategy, debating risk, imagining your future, and feeling the pressure of a market that doesn’t wait.

We also know what it takes to win – without regret.

We know how to read what’s underneath bad photos. We know how to spot hidden value. We know how to structure an offer that’s strong and smart. We know the neighborhoods not as a map, but as a lived experience – schools, streets, rhythms, and the little things that make a place feel like home.

If you’re considering Brookline – whether you’re relocating, moving from a nearby town, or trying to make a move within Brookline – we’d love to help you.

Not just because it’s our job.

We would love to guide you home,

Elad and Mara Bushari