It started during one of those late-night conversations—laundry piled high, dishes in the sink, and our three kids asleep on the couch. My husband looked at me over a lukewarm cup of coffee and said, “What if we just… left?”
At first, I laughed. But then we sat quietly with the question. What if?
So we began researching during nap times and after bedtime routines—how to grow food, build shelter, fix what breaks, and live with less. One acre turned into five. Then five into twenty-seven. Before we knew it, our old life no longer felt like our own.
It took three full years to make the move. Not because we were slow—but because letting go of a life you spent years building is complicated. We untangled jobs, obligations, and fears. The hardest part wasn’t learning how to run a chainsaw—it was believing we didn’t have to keep chasing a life that didn’t fit anymore.
The land we found wasn’t perfect—rocky, uneven, and full of old fences and fallen wood. But it was ours. That first night, just us and the kids in sleeping bags, we heard frogs, wind, and nothing else. And we cried. Not because we were sad—but because something in us had shifted.
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