We recently returned from vacation—one of those rare, every-five-years visits to see extended family tucked away in a small rural town, home to fewer than 1,000 people. Our days were slow and unhurried. We slept in, visited the usual local landmarks, caught up with aunts, uncles, cousins, and old friends, and did… well, not much at all. And it was wonderful.
Each time we go, I leave with a heavy heart. In the past, I understood why—sometimes it was the grief of saying goodbye to someone for the last time, or mourning those who were no longer there. But this time felt different. No major loss, no obvious goodbye. Still, the sadness lingered.
After some thought, I realized what I was grieving wasn’t a person—it was the simplicity. The kind you can feel in your bones. We were leaving behind slower days and heading back into the churn of everyday life. Even though we don’t live in a major metro area, life still gets loud. Jobs, traffic, obligations, stress, noise. While on vacation, none of that followed us – we didn’t let it. Our only responsibilities were to rest, reconnect, and soak up every moment in the peaceful stillness of the prairie.
Yes, we were on vacation, and vacations are supposed to be relaxing. But this trip felt like more than a break—it felt like a glimpse into another kind of life. As we inch closer to retirement (five to ten years away, depending on which one of us you ask), that kind of peace doesn’t feel so far off anymore. It feels almost touchable. This trip was a sneak peek into the kind of life I crave.
And now, back in the daily grind, I find myself asking: Do I really want to spend the next ten years in this rat race?
The silence, the slowness, the wide open space… There was something sacred about coexisting with wheat fields, canola blooms, distant “mountains,” and wandering wildlife. That kind of simplicity doesn’t just speak to me—it calls me home.
It’s how I want to live out the rest of my days. Life is so short. And while we’re still in the thick of raising kids, it’s now my mission to figure out how to bridge the gap between now and then—or better yet, how to bring then a little closer to now.
Tell me, when was the last time you felt truly at peace? What if that feeling isn’t as far away as it seems? And what’s one small step you could take toward it?