After Orlando, there was one final stop before we left the country: my parents’ house in South Florida — a place that never felt permanent, but always felt like home.
They moved into the house when I was in college, and for the past 20 years, it’s been my touchpoint between travels, jobs, and life changes.
This time, it would be the last stop before everything changed.
I've been lucky enough to have family living only a few hours away, so I've seen them a lot. But now we face one of the downsides of upending our lives – not being able to see them as much.
My parents’ home is also home for my brother and his family. This is one of those cultural differences where multi-generational living is pretty normal, and not a mark of shame.
It’s a fitting last stop before we fly off to Costa Rica.
Just like we did in Orlando, we gave ourselves one final ritual: a food tour of our favorite South Florida spots.
Part comfort. Part farewell. Mostly a way to say goodbye wrapped in something familiar:
Pat GoGo – sushi and Thai we still haven’t matched anywhere
El Rinconcito – a Colombian spot my parents had raved about nonstop
Crazee Mario’s – Indian-Italian fusion dreams and tikka masala pizza
Each bite was its own morsel of goodbye.
We didn’t know what to expect from the food in Costa Rica. On past visits, nothing really stood out.
But things changed once we moved.
Típico: the unexpectedly perfect breakfast: rice and beans, eggs, plantains, cheese, sausage, and corn tortillas — all with Costa Rica’s famous coffee.
Casado: our go-to lunch or dinner: rice, black beans, plantains, salad, a tortilla, and your choice of protein.
And beyond the traditional meals, we quickly found ourselves surrounded by global options just steps from our door.
It’s not the same food we left behind. But little by little, it’s becoming a new kind of comfort — one that nourishes more than just our bodies.
It’s one thing to move from city to city within the same state.
It’s another thing to move from state to state.
It's an entirely new ballgame moving from country to country.
You have to make sure you have a place to send all your mail. (Interesting aside: Costa Rica does not have a physical mail system for letters)
You have to figure out what to do with all the stuff you aren’t bringing.
And you have to figure out what to do with your car.
Having a car is both a blessing and a curse. But I don’t really miss it as much as I thought I would.
We have a mini-market downstairs, a grocery store up the hill, and a park just down the road.
But we don’t just walk to things that are close by. Living in a proper city allows us to walk just about everywhere.
To the grocery stores and farmer’s market.
To the amazing array of restaurants.
And even to the vet when Pookie has an allergic reaction with bumps all over his body – a story for another day.
Selling our cars was a part of the process we were not looking forward to. We were worried about finding the right buyer and having to negotiate over how much we would get.
But to our surprise, this was one of the smoothest parts of the moving process.
Anita discovered that Carvana was as simple as could be. You just fill out their form, send them some documents, and they give you an offer within a few hours.
No talking to a salesperson. No haggling over how much you get. Just simple and efficient.
If only everything was like that.
Selling my car was just as easy. It was also the last possession I let go of from my life in Florida.
So I recorded the moment the car was loaded onto the truck, not knowing whether or not I would regret selling such an essential part of the last seven years of my life.
I’ve just sold my car to Carvana and notice a little clause in the details of the sale: you must turn in your license plate and notify the state that you sold your car.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. Anita had already tossed her plate. Traffic was crawling. And the DMV closed in 90 minutes.
So, we frantically start printing out our sales notices and order an Uber. The closest one is stuck in traffic, 15 minutes away, and it will take 30 minutes to get to the DMV.
We pace back and forth inside the garage. Watching as our Uber slowly moves towards us.
This is one of those moments where hindsight is 20/20. Obviously we should have read the fine print better. I should have scheduled the pickup for an earlier time.
Rather than shoulding all over ourselves, and worrying about the past, we had to focus on the NOW.
Our Uber finally picks us up. It’s 4pm and still 30 minutes to drive over. I keep nervously looking at the map, wondering if we’ll have enough time.
We finally arrive and see an interesting notice at the front of the line: County Residents Only. We panic at the thought that we did all this work just to turn back around.
Instead of fleeing, we get into line anyway.
There’s only a couple of people ahead of us.
One by one the line gets smaller.
And I get more nervous.
Finally we are called up.
“We’re here to turn in a license plate and give notice of sale. We also need to report one of our license plates as lost.”
When you’re waiting to be disappointed, a second feels like an eternity. Would she ask us to show proof of residency? Did we need to figure out another way to turn our stuff in?
After a few seconds the woman responds, “No problem. Just fill out this form.”
Relief floods over us in waves. The woman takes our papers, hands us a receipt, and tells us we’re all set.
I check the time.
5:00 PM, on the dot.
A small miracle. A fitting end to our Florida chapter: frantic, frustrating, and weirdly funny in retrospect. One last taste of red tape before we trade one bureaucracy for another.
The day has finally come. Our flight is in a few hours.
With everything else finally in place, there was just one thing left: proof of exit from Costa Rica. Until our residency is approved, we’re still there on tourist visas — which means we have to leave and re-enter.
We’d been debating where to go, but now, with just hours before our flight, we finally pulled the trigger.
Puerto Rico.
A reunion. A soft landing. A celebration.
Anita could visit family.
We could work on GrimlyGala dolls before Halloween.
And we had tickets to see Bad Bunny — the hottest show in town.
It was the perfect bridge between everything we were leaving and everything we were stepping into.
We didn’t know what was waiting for us in Costa Rica. But after months of goodbyes, checklists, and paperwork… we were finally ready to find out.
At least, we thought we were.
There was still one surprise left.
What were the final moments like before you made a huge life change? Let us know in the comments.
Up next: Our Final Days in Florida
Series in Order:
We Weren’t Unhappy But We Left Anyway
Why We Left a Good Life Behind
Letting Go (Pt. 1): The Beginning of a Creative Reset
Letting Go (Pt. 2): Clearing Space for What’s Next
Between Worlds (Pt. 1): The Messy Middle of a Creative Reset
Between Worlds (Pt. 2): Saying Goodbye to Our Old Lives
Final Farewell (Pt. 1): Saying Goodbye to Orlando
Currently Reading: Final Farewell (Pt. 2): Our Last Days in Florida
Journey to San Jose (Pt. 1): The Not So Calm Before the Storm
Journey to San Jose (Pt. 2): We’ve Finally Made It
Journey to San Jose (Pt. 3): First Day Adventures
Finding Home (Pt. 1): Our First Big Decision
Finding Home (Pt. 2): The Race For Cash
Finding Home (Pt. 3): A New Start
Settling In (Pt. 1): Early Lessons & Adventures
Settling In (Pt. 2): So Many Curveballs
This was so good! I haven't moved countries like this in a looooong time but everything really does feel heightened. The excitement, the fear, the tedious items on your checklist. All of it. Endings and beginnings can be hard but so worthwhile too!