Starting Over at 47 – The Beach Is Calling

Somewhere out there, there’s a breeze with my name on it. I can feel it calling me lately—soft and salty, full of second chances and new beginnings. I’ve always loved the beach, but now it feels like something more. Not just a place I’d like to visit. A place I need to be.

I’m still here for now, in this house I bought to be close to my parents. Back when everything made sense. Back when family felt like something that held you, not something you had to escape. But everything shifted after my mom passed. That loss didn’t just break my heart—it broke the foundation of the family I thought I knew.

Now I live just down the street from my father, and it’s one of the hardest parts of this in-between life. We don’t speak anymore. He made his choices, and I made mine. But proximity doesn’t soften the blow—it sharpens it. Every drive home, every familiar street, every reminder that he’s right there and yet completely gone from my life… it wears on me.

And so, I dream of the coast. I imagine mornings with coffee on a deck overlooking the water. I picture Oscar by my side, Dolly and Jenny playing in the sand, no tension in the air, no ghosts hiding in the hallway. Just ocean. Just breeze. Just peace.

The idea of selling this house is a heavy one—it holds years of effort, hope, and history. But lately, I’ve been feeling like this chapter is complete. Maybe it’s not meant to be a forever home. Maybe it was just a stepping stone to something better. Something softer. Something mine.

The beach, to me, feels like freedom. It’s not about escaping everything that’s happened—it’s about creating a new space where healing can thrive. Where the past doesn’t sit so close. Where I can breathe without looking over my shoulder. Where the soundtrack isn’t the echoes of old arguments or memories of who used to walk these halls, but instead the lull of waves and the promise of peace.

Oscar and I talk about it often. Sometimes seriously. Sometimes like a daydream. But each time we do, it feels a little more real. A little more possible. The life we want feels close enough to taste. And even though we have steps to take—divorce finalizations, mortgage decisions, plans to lay out—I know we’re heading in the right direction.

I don’t know exactly when I’ll get there, but I believe I will. Maybe Ocean City. Maybe Rehoboth. Maybe somewhere unexpected that just feels right. But I’ll know it when I find it.

Starting over at 47 means letting yourself dream again. It means daring to imagine a life that feels light and joy-filled—even after everything. It means standing in the middle of your current mess and saying, “This isn’t the end of my story.”

Because it’s not.

The beach is calling. And I’m starting to answer.

Love,

Aunty Christine 🫶🏻💜🤟🏻