- I've lived abroad since 2018, traveling solo through 10 countries and building a child-free life.
- My 70-year-old father recently made me realize I chose a life without many roots or bonds.
- Now, I'm reimagining my future by planting deeper roots and creating community.
On most Sundays, I walk to the beach in Playa del Carmen, Mexico, with a papaya, blackberry, and banana fruit bowl packed in my bag. After a couple of hours of sun, sand, and salt water, I go home, shower, and call my dad.
Our conversations are usually quick and light: How's life? How's business? What's for dinner?
But one recent Sunday, my 70-year-old father shifted gears. He wanted to discuss his end-of-life wishes: burial plans, the house, and the family heirlooms. It wasn't a sad conversation, just practical.
Still, after we hung up, I panicked. My father is my last close relative. When he's gone, I won't just grieve him. I'll be facing the full weight of being alone in the life I happily created.
I built a solo life abroad
I've lived abroad since 2018, traveling solo through 10 countries with an overstuffed backpack and a duffel bag of prized possessions. I originally planned a three-month trip to Thailand to reset my life, but it turned into something bigger.
This wasn't my first adventure abroad. In my early 20s, I joined the Peace Corps and served in Togo, West Africa, where I met my now ex-husband. I always held a vision of us traveling throughout Africa together with a kid or two in tow. However the marriage ended after eight years. I met another gentleman who also promised me that one day we'd travel the world together. After five years, I had to face the fact that it would never come to pass.
At 40, I was still single and childless, so I chose myself. I moved abroad and haven't stopped traveling since — building a life I love.
No amount of freedom prepared me for this new kind of fear
I believed for years that building a life abroad that was full of sunrises on new beaches and friendships across cultures would be enough to last the rest of my life. And it was, until that Sunday call.
My dad's casual conversation about mortality rattled me. His voice has always been an anchor, a living thread connecting me to my roots. The thought of losing him triggered something deeper: Who would care for me when he's gone? Who will be in my corner when I need help? Who would remember my birthday without a Facebook reminder?
I realized something more sobering: the chosen families and vibrant friendships I've built abroad may not be the ones at my side when it's my time for me to pass on.
It's not about regret. I don't regret choosing freedom, travel, or a child-free life. I'm grateful for the woman I've become. But facing the eventual loss of my father marks a new chapter in my life, one where I understand that I need to create an even stronger root system for myself.
Now I'm creating a new vision for the future
Since that conversation, I've started reimagining my future.
Instead of drifting from place to place, I'm laying foundations for something more permanent. I've set my sights on San Miguel de Allende, a colorful artists' town in central Mexico known for its creative energy and strong community ties.
I dream of buying a Spanish colonial home where I store my collection of medicinal herbs in the kitchen, my favorite cookbooks and travel memoirs in the living room, and host dinner parties around the wood fired pizza oven in the back. Having a home will help me build deeper relationships that extend beyond passing travel companions.
I'm also dedicated to improving my Spanish so I can truly connect with neighbors, not just wave hello from across the street. I want to be invited to family dinners and become part of the local fabric — not just a visitor passing through.
This moment isn't about fear overtaking my life or regretting my decisions because I'm proud of the solo life I've built. Rather, it's about choosing to live more intentionally than I ever have before.
Now, as I approach 50, I'm learning that choosing freedom also means choosing to anchor myself in new ways. The next chapter of my life won't be about wandering; it will be about belonging.
Halona Black is a memoir coach and freelance journalist who writes about food, travel, well-being, and spirituality. She can be reached on LinkedIn.
