Kent: A Sunrise, a Leprechuan, and a One-Way Flight

First, to all you lovely people reading our blog—thank you for staying connected with us. We’re not trying to gather a million followers or rack up clicks. You’re here because you were personally invited or heard about our “crazy idea” that has now become very real.

Today is the big day.

This morning we were in the good old USA. Tonight, we sleep in a Dallas hotel and head toward the rest of our lives in Mexico. At least, that’s the plan. We’ll return stateside from time to time to visit family and friends, but we’re hoping to settle in and make our little corner of paradise feel like home.

We didn’t sleep much the night before leaving Shreveport. Equal parts stress and excitement.

I found myself putting a dab of paint on a spot I had missed. Then I nailed a piece of aluminum fascia back onto the house after a windstorm had knocked it loose into the driveway. Apparently, even on the morning you leave your life behind, there’s still one more thing to fix.

With bags packed, we stepped outside and took a souvenir selfie with our luggage as the sun rose for the last time for us in Shreveport. Our dear neighbor Dillard stood across the street, quietly watching, knowing what that moment meant.

Our friend Tyler drove us—and all of our worldly belongings—to Dallas on St. Patrick’s Day. Along the way we stopped for lunch and ended up sitting next to a guy dressed like a leprechaun. Just another perfectly normal travel day.

The three-hour drive flew by, thanks to Tyler, who is a master of conversation and open-ended questions.

We spent the night near the airport, knowing the real journey would begin early the next morning.

At the hotel that night, I spoke a little Spanish to the woman at the front desk, and she rewarded us with VIP treatment—reserving the 5:30 a.m. shuttle just for us and our mountain of suitcases.

Morning came early. Very early.

All the worries we had—over 300 pounds of luggage, possible airport disruptions, and a hundred other intrusive pessimistic thoughts—began to fade as everything fell into place.

At one point, our youngest daughter texted us:

“Let go of any stress, any sadness, any fear. Have fun on your journey and relax as much as you can.”

We held onto that.

A relatively short three-hour flight brought us to Guadalajara.

We met a kind couple seated in front of us who helped us navigate immigration and customs—and even pushed a heavy cart loaded with our suitcases. Small kindnesses feel big on days like this.

We had arranged for a driver we met on a previous visit to pick us up in the largest vehicle he had. From there, it was a 45-minute drive over the hills and down toward Lake Chapala.

Somewhere along that drive, it hit me.

I found myself happy-crying most of the way.

After unpacking just enough to function, we set out on foot to explore our new neighborhood.

And that’s when the magic started to reveal itself.

The colorful walls and murals.
Flowering trees spilling over sidewalks.
Well-behaved dogs wandering freely having earned the right to be exactly where they are.
Small shops and restaurants we’re already promising to return to.

And the people.

So many people—speaking both English and Spanish—who welcomed us warmly, as if we already belonged here.

We are here.

And we are very happy to be here.

— Kent

GO TO JUDI’S MARCH 22 POST