• Heidi Widmer is a 35-year-old who moved into an apartment building in Los Angeles in July.
• For the first two weeks, she heard a loud sound from the apartment above and was annoyed.
• She found out the noise was being made by her neighbor, who has Parkinson's.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Heidi Widmer. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In July, I moved into an apartment in Los Angeles, exhausted from a six-day drive across the country from New York. All I wanted to do was get into the apartment and sleep, and luckily, my bed had been delivered on the same day I arrived.

Trying to fall asleep at 2 a.m., all I could hear was a loud noise coming from the apartment upstairs. It sounded as if someone was bowling. Although I was tempted to shout for them to be quiet, I held my tongue — I was the new neighbor and didn't want to be difficult.

But the noise just didn't seem to stop. Whoever lived up there also never came downstairs. Who lives up there? I thought to myself.

I realized my neighbor had Parkinson's

Two weeks after moving in, I heard someone coming down the stairs and had to get a glimpse of who lived above me.

Peeking out of my door, I saw Carole for the first time, slowly making her way down the stairs, shaking badly from what was clearly Parkinson's, and trying to carry a bunch of bags full of recycling.

Just as I was about to open the door to see if she needed help, she dropped all the bags with only a couple of steps left. I burst out of my apartment to help her.

"Oh my gosh, thank you," she said in her sweet British accent. "Did you just move in? Am I too loud for you?"

In that moment, I felt totally and completely humbled.

Having grown up in the Catholic church, I was taught never to judge a book by its cover, and with Carole, I hadn't even seen the cover. I judged her simply by the noise she produced upstairs. How could I be so judgmental?

It turns out that sound had been Carole rolling a three-wheeled, broken chair across her floor to get to her mini fridge — the mini fridge social services had given her when her refrigerator broke. She had to hoist herself out of her broken chair to get down and access the mini fridge.

That was the noise.

I was determined to figure out what I could do to help

Two days after we met, I knocked on her door. She peeked through and nervously let me in. The conditions inside weren't great.

Although she can live independently, she just needs a little help. I later learned that she doesn't like accepting help from people, especially social services. The fact that she is frightened of the very people meant to help her breaks my heart.

That day, I took all of her trash out for her, reassuring her I wasn't judging her at all.

In the weeks and now months that have followed, I have been up to Carole's to help with the trash, cooking (she'd only been having microwave meals), cleaning, and contacting the landlord to get him to replace and repair items in the apartment. We've decorated her apartment, too.

I raised $80,000 to help her out

Together, we made her an Amazon wish list, and I shared it on social media so that people could order things she needs and have them delivered directly to her. People have been so generous, purchasing things like an expensive Buddhist "butsudan" that Carole didn't expect anyone to buy.

We set up a GoFundMe, which has raised about $80,000, and we plan to use the funds to have a stair lift installed for her. Any leftover money will be spent on in-home care as she continues to age and her Parkinson's Disease progresses.

I know I've been helpful to Carole in these last few months, but she's been the perfect person at the perfect time for me, too. Moving to LA, I had hardly any connections. Lots of Carole's family members are either no longer living or back in the UK (she moved here in her 20s as an au pair).

Carole became the family I haven't had, and I became hers. We text back and forth each day, and I see her most days. She calls me granddaughter, and I see her as my grandmother.

When I've had a hard day at work teaching at a local middle school, Carole is ready to give me a big hug when I get home. She's been my safe space, and I've been hers. The universe knew we needed each other.

It's an unlikely connection, but it shows that when you lead with kindness rather than judgment, the person you were ready to judge can become someone you can't imagine your life without.

• I enjoyed living in a small, one-bedroom apartment with my family of three for years.
• Once we moved to a house more than triple the size, I totally changed my minimalist mindset.
• Now that we live in a bigger space, I can't imagine going back to living small or minimally.

When my husband and I bought our apartment in Kyiv back in 2017, we were thrilled to finally have a family nest of our own.

It was a cozy, 500-square-foot place with one bedroom, and we meticulously planned to optimize every inch of it. Our kitchen table doubled as my workspace, and our living room couch became the guest bed whenever family stayed over.

Hosting required pure creative problem-solving and, with limited seating around our small table, I'd sometimes feed guests in shifts. It was chaotic at times, but I didn't mind.

After our son was born, bright plastic toys, endless boxes of diapers, and bulky baby gear started claiming every free corner of our apartment. With the three of us packed into a single bedroom, finding space was a daily puzzle, but we made it work.

Surprisingly, living so close together didn't feel limited back then — it felt intimate, cozy, and deeply fulfilling. Then COVID-19 hit.

Spending so much time indoors made me feel isolated, and for the first time, I began dreaming about more living space. But we barely had time to figure things out before life took a drastic turn: When the war in Ukraine escalated in 2022, we made the heavy, life-changing decision to relocate to Canada.

A few months after moving, we began renting a two-bedroom house, where we currently reside. At 1,700 square feet, it wasn't considered especially large by local standards, but to us, it felt vast.

It didn't take long to adjust to having more space — and to quickly fill it up

At first, our house seemed almost too large for just three people.

For the first time, we had two bedrooms and a basement, which instantly doubled our usable space at a ground level.

After years of apartment living, though, the sheer thought of having so much space to keep clean felt exhausting. However, it didn't take long to change my mind.

It turns out that when both you and your belongings finally have room to breathe — and you've got a trusty robot vacuum doing the heavy lifting — life shines in completely different colors.

It's also been wonderful to have more room to host, from a dedicated guest space (in the basement) to a table big enough to actually seat larger groups.

In time, we began to pick up local habits and traditions, too. Many of our neighbors in Canada decorate for different holidays, so we started joining in.

And of course, seasonal decor needs a place to be stored when it's not in use — and since we now had a full basement, I didn't feel super limited with what I could buy.

A lot of neighbors also had an extra stand-alone freezer in their homes. It seemed ridiculous for our family of three to also get one … until my first Costco run.

I caved when I realized I needed a place for all those bulk-sized boxes of frozen food. In our bigger home, large grocery hauls began feeling normal.

Gradually, I felt a shift in my identity: I was no longer the strict minimalist I used to be.

In Kyiv, whenever my husband wanted a new kitchen gadget or a giant toy truck for our son, I was firm about saying no. We simply didn't have room for "extra." I took pride in keeping our home completely clutter-free.

But between the extra space and North American convenience, I'd completely changed my minimalist rules. Now, saying "yes" to big additions — like the bulky food dehydrator I'd been eyeing for drying fruits and vegetables, or the roomy couch we'd dreamed of for years — felt easy.

I didn't need to worry about where something would be stored or if it'd take up too much space: We finally had the room to bring those dreams home.

Ultimately, my family and I have thrived with more room to breathe

Over time, I realized this shift was much deeper than just being able to shop more and store more stuff. In a bigger space, our family had room to breathe and grow.

In Kyiv, our whole routine and my minimalist mindset felt shaped by how tight everything felt, but here, the extra room opened up a whole new chapter.

I've become more outgoing, more relaxed, and genuinely excited to gather people together. Our home has turned into a place for hosting friends, cooking weekend dinners, and laughing over backyard barbecues.

Living small was a beautiful, intimate part of my life that I will always hold close to my heart. It taught me intentionality and gratitude.

However, creating space to thrive, host, and watch my family grow has completely transformed my definition of home — now, going back to 500 square feet no longer feels like an option.

• Andrew Koller owns property in Canada, but decided to buy a home in Japan after visiting.
• Koller spent $15,000 CAD on an akiya and spent months renovating it.
• He plans to visit on occasion and rent it out some of the time.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Andrew Koller, 31, a freelance camera operator who purchased a home in Yamagata, Japan, in March. Koller, who's based in Edmonton, Canada, renovated the home and plans to use it as a vacation home. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

Like a lot of millennials, I was exposed to Japanese culture in some sense early on with "Naruto," "Pokemon," and "Dragon Ball Z." After that, I don't think my interest really left.

Come 2020, I had a bunch of time on my hands like everybody else. It seemed like a good time to finally learn Japanese. I've been learning Japanese with a private tutor since then.

Then, in 2023, I made my first trip to Japan.

Like everybody else who comes back from their first trip to Japan, I just fell in love. I couldn't stop talking about it, but I wanted a deeper connection to the community.

I wanted more than just the superficial, surface-level experience of Japanese life. So I thought maybe a good way to get that experience would be to buy a house that's not in a major tourist city, somewhat live there, and spend a good chunk of time over there getting involved with the community by renovating a forgotten property.

The algorithm was watching for sure. After my first Japan trip, my YouTube and Instagram algorithms were suggesting to me all these similar people doing similar things.

From that, I was like, this seems like something I can do. In my free time, I like to DIY. I have a little workshop — I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I feel like I know enough to do the basics.

I'm at the point in my life now where I've had all these ideas and I've said, "Oh, it'd be cool to do this," but I never do it. I never follow through. I just wanted to prove to myself that I actually followed through on one of these somewhat whimsical ideas.

The house I bought in Japan cost a fraction of what houses cost in Canada

I've always been interested in real estate since a young age.

Purchasing your first house is doable, but if you want to purchase a second house after that, like a rental, it's extremely challenging to do that in Canada. Canada's housing market has exploded, especially in Alberta.

I'm in a very fortunate position where my partner and I own a house and we own a rental property as well close to the university area.

I bought the rental house when I was 20 with my parents — they had to sign on because no bank was going to loan a 20-year-old kid a mortgage. I rented out the rooms and then I lived for free for my time in college.

Both houses have a similar value. My primary residence is worth just under $600,000 CAD (about $422,880). When we bought the rental 10 years ago, it was around $500,000 CAD, but it's gone up since.

For my home in Japan, I spent $15,000 CAD (about $10,600) on the purchase price plus closing costs, which was another $3,000 CAD.

I can definitely see myself spending extended time in Japan.

I want to go out there at least a few times a year. It's close to a pretty big ski resort, and I snowboard.

Doing the math for that, if I was to go stay in Banff or Jasper — one of the more popular mountain towns in Alberta — for a week and ski, it's actually cheaper to fly to Japan, because the skiing is also very affordable, so that was a big factor for me.

I would like to rent it out, but I don't plan on making a lot of money from it

I went to Japan in October 2025 to look at properties. I made an offer in November, it got accepted, and then I got possession of the property in March 2026. Then I went up for the entire month of April to start renovations on it.

I wanted to respect what was already there when I went in. Even though the house itself wasn't ancient or historical — it was built in the '60s or '70s — it was very traditionally built with the Tatami rooms. I wanted to keep a lot of that, coming in as a Westerner.

I wanted to try and adapt to their way of life rather than trying to impose my own. I just wanted to complement what was already there.

Now, the house is 98% done.

The actual renovation costs right now are just over the purchase cost. So I'm at around $18,000 CAD and change, doing most of it myself.

Right now, the goal would be to do a short-term rental in the future, but I don't plan on it making a lot of money.

I think that's the one thing people will get confused about. They think, "If I do this and renovate it, I can make a ton of money off a short-term rental in Japan." That's not the case, because there's so much competition with the hotels there that are already amazing and very affordable.

I just want to cover the maintenance costs more than anything. Doing a little bit of short-term rental, I think, will help with that.

It's not an asset. I think maybe people go to Japan with the Western mindset, like, "Oh, it's a buy-and-hold asset." Outside of Tokyo and the big cities, real estate doesn't do that.

Real estate always goes down in value over time. If you're buying a house in Japan, go in with the expectation that it's not as much of a financial asset as it is a recreation: you'll get more of a cultural experience.