The Night I Almost Gave Up on Paradise

The night I arrived in Vallarta, I almost turned back. Almost.

In May 2016 we vacationed in Puerto Vallarta — my first time. Four days in, we knew we belonged there. Six months later, we left snowy Chicago with two greyhounds, a stuffed car, and a dream that felt bigger than logic.

Arrival: December 12, 2016

At 5pm we rolled into Vallarta — the air warm, the mountains glowing, the ocean shimmering like a welcome.

It felt like the opening scene of a movie… right until the plot twist.

After picking up the keys to our empty house and eating dinner with friends, we set out to walk the dogs. Kai suddenly growled — a loose pitbull. Friendly, yes, but not knowing that, I panicked, tripped on my long skirt, crashed onto the uneven sidewalk, and scraped up my hand.

No first-aid kit for us (naturally), but plenty packed for the dogs.

Greyhounds: 1

Humans: 0

We returned to the house.

And that’s when doubt slipped in.

The house was dark, cold, dusty, and unfurnished.

No heat.

A thin blanket barely big enough for one of us.

Geckos darting.

An inch of space under the exterior doors — just wide enough for mystery critters and my imagination.

I suddenly felt miles from everything familiar.

And I cried — hard.

The kind of tears that only come when a dream collides with reality.

Meanwhile... Todd’s thoughts: snore… zzz… living his best life.

Day 2: A New Script Begins

Morning light makes everything less dramatic — or at least less terrifying.

We found Walmart (the only place we could find without internet) and bought cleaning supplies. It was a start.

Then — miracle — a moving truck rumbled up. Our belongings had arrived on time.

As our furniture filled the space, the house changed.

Energy shifted.

It felt warmer.

Familiar.

Like our old life had followed us here and said, See? You’re not alone.

Later that afternoon, Carl’s Junior tasted like emotional therapy in burger form.

The Truth About Transitions

For a few weeks, sadness visited daily — the silent ache of missing familiarity, family, language, knowing where anything was.

But slowly it faded.

Because…

Family can visit.

We can visit them.

We can learn Spanish.

We can figure out where to buy rice and licorice and organic cleaners.

We can build a life.

We can follow the whispers that brought us here in the first place.

And we moved to paradise.

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I didn’t know it that night, standing there with my doubt and my suitcase, but the moment I chose not to turn back, the entire script of my life flipped.

Sometimes the plot twist is simply… staying.

Find your inner movie star.

xo Kathleen Naomi