At 53, I packed my car, loaded up the dog, and drove from Tennessee to the Washington coast.
By myself.
Before anyone starts constructing a dramatic divorce narrative: no. My husband and I are fine. He’s back home keeping the home fires burning, holding down the Tennessee end of things, and cheering me on while I take this very long—and very coastal—side quest.
This was not a spontaneous vacation, a midlife crisis, or the result of an inspiring vision board. I accepted a ten-month teaching contract approximately 2,600 miles from home—and then had to actually follow through with the thing I said I was going to do.
Rude.
I’ve wanted something different for a long time. Different weather. Different scenery. Different energy. A little room to hear myself think without the constant noise of everything I’m supposed to be doing for everyone else.
So here I am: living in a tiny coastal cottage, working in a new school, cooking for one, wandering beaches, and figuring out what happens when you stop waiting for your life to become convenient.
Live Life Randomly is where I’m documenting the detours, the discoveries, the food, the coast, the questionable decisions, and whatever the hell happens next.
There is no polished reinvention plan.
There is, however, a beach.
