Saying Goodbye to the RV: What Years on the Road Taught Me About Needing Less

This morning I stood in the doorway of our RV with an empty box in my hands and a cup of coffee going cold on the little counter. The cabinets were half bare. The bench where we ate a thousand suppers was piled with things waiting to be sorted. And I just stood there for a minute, remembering.

We're in a rental here in Texas now. Bit by bit, we're emptying the RV. Next we'll clean it top to bottom, and then we'll sell it. It's the right time. But friend, I won't pretend it's easy to say goodbye to something that carried our family through so many years and so many miles.

If you're new here, here's the short version. I spent years as a project manager at AT&T. In 2012 I got my first layoff notice. I was able to hang on by moving to a different area, but that notice changed something in me. I started quietly looking for another way to earn, one that didn't depend on a company deciding my future for me.

When the final layoff came in 2017, I was ready. Not rich, not fearless, just ready. In the years that followed, my husband, our son and I moved into an RV full time and took to the road, work-camping as we went.

My very favorite thing about those years was seeing places I might never have seen otherwise.

On our way to a winter work-camping job in South Carolina, we drove through Kentucky and stopped at the Ark Encounter. Then we spent time in Asheville, North Carolina, touring the Biltmore Estate. I'm still not over that house.

Another season, we took a work-camping job in Bryce, Utah, right at the entrance to Bryce Canyon. On the way there we stopped in Kingman, Arizona, and visited Oatman, an old gold-mining ghost town that feels like stepping back a hundred years. We spent a whole week in St. George, Utah, poking around its historic places.

And Bryce Canyon itself? Pictures don't do it justice. Seeing all of it in person, those colors, that quiet, was just plain gorgeous. I'd stand there and think, "Lord, thank you for letting me see this."

Here's one more thing I'm grateful for: without the RV, we'd still be shoveling through those long, cold Midwest winters. Following the warm weather was a gift I didn't know I needed.

When you live in a space that small, every single thing has to earn its spot. You learn fast that you don't need three spatulas. You don't need the "just in case" pile. You need what you use, the people you love, and a little room to breathe.

And here's what surprised me: having less didn't make life feel smaller. It made it feel bigger. Less stuff meant less to clean, less to pay for and less to worry about. That left more time for sunsets, long talks and actually being present with my family.

I think a lot of us over 50 are feeling that pull right now. Maybe you're downsizing. Maybe you're tired of working so hard just to keep up with things you don't even enjoy. The road taught me that "enough" is a beautiful word.

Moving to Texas was something our family dreamed about for a long time. Now it's finally happening, and it feels like the start of a fresh chapter. The RV did exactly what we needed it to do. It carried us through a season of change, and now it's time to let it carry someone else's dreams.

I'll be honest, there may be a few tears when we hand over the keys. That's okay. Gratitude and goodbye can live in the same heart.

I'm not taking the RV with me, but I'm taking everything it taught me:

• Simple is usually better.
• You can start over at any age.
• The best things in life aren't things.
• Flexibility is worth more than a fancy title.

That last one matters to me a lot. One of the things I love most about earning a little online is that it doesn't care where you park. It went with us across the country, and it's coming with us to Texas too.

If you've been wondering whether you could build something like that, I want you to know two things. First, you don't have to be a computer whiz. Second, you don't have to figure it out alone, and you don't have to fall for the hype and the scams out there. There's a simple, honest way to start, with real people walking beside you.

I put together a free guide called the Encore Career Playbook for folks just like you who want a little more freedom and a little less worry in this season of life. It's simple, it's honest, and it's yours with no strings attached.

Grab your free Encore Career Playbook here

Now I'd better go finish emptying those cabinets. Wish me luck!

With love from Texas, Deb