Un·script·ed
/ˌənˈskriptəd/ adjective
Said or delivered without a prepared script; impromptu.
Living without a fully prepared plan.

I’m writing this as we travel through the Southeast visiting Charleston, Savannah, and St. Augustine. We have reservations for lodging in each city, but beyond that, very little is planned. We have ideas of what we want to see, where we might go, and a few restaurants we hope to try. By our standards, this is decidedly unscripted.

In many ways, that’s how we’re approaching our first full year of retirement together.

Over the past twenty years since we were married, we planned carefully making decisions, preparing financially, and paying down debt. On October 3, 2025, confident we had attained the goal amount we needed to retire, Michael officially joined me in this next season.

Because so much planning went into reaching this point successfully, we decided the next twelve months would be different. This year is about learning how to live without an alarm clock, a packed calendar, or the constant noise that defined daily life in earlier seasons. We’re calling it our sabbatical year.

That doesn’t mean we’re charging ahead without thought or ignoring the consequences of today’s decisions. Instead, this year is about creating a new plan. One we couldn’t fully envision until we arrived here, together.

Michael often describes retirement in three stages: the Go-Go years, the Slow-Go years, and the No-Go years. There’s no fixed timeline for any of them; they’re shaped by health, opportunity, and circumstance. So during this sabbatical, our first of the Go-Go years, we’re allowing the script for this final, best season to be written organically.

While we make plans, we also hold them loosely, trusting that clarity often comes one step at a time. This year is less about control and more about attentiveness, listening, learning, and being faithful with what’s placed in front of us.

The script may not be written yet, but the Author is steady.

Until next time,
Catherine