East Coast Diaries: My Takeaway from This Trip

Freedom isn’t about what your body can do. It’s about refusing to let your limitations decide whether you live.

This journey reminded me of something important: my mobility may be considerably limited by my weight, but I am far more resilient than I sometimes give myself credit for.

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Travelling solo means finding solutions, and I do. Airport attendants help me get to my gate. Patient Uber and taxi drivers make getting in and out of vehicles easier. Valet parking saves unnecessary walking. I request hotel rooms close to the elevator, and when the distance is long, I simply pace myself—bench to bench if I need to—until I catch my breath.

I don’t travel the way I did twenty years ago, and that’s okay. I still travel.

One thing I learned? I would happily rent a convertible again—but only for scenic roads where the journey itself is part of the experience. Highways don’t offer the same magic. Winding coastal roads, ocean views, and small villages are where a convertible truly belongs.

People often ask if I get lonely travelling by myself. The truth is, I never really feel alone. Technology has changed everything. Friends and family are only a phone call or a message away, and throughout the week I shared moments, photos, and laughter with people back home. Solitude is not the same as loneliness.

I was also reminded that returning to a favourite destination is never about recreating the past. The place has changed. More importantly, I have changed. Every visit offers something new to discover—not just in the landscape, but in myself.

And perhaps my favourite lesson of all was giving myself permission to do… nothing.

To sit in the shade with a good view. To people-watch. To linger over a meal. To enjoy the breeze without feeling guilty that I “should” be seeing one more attraction.

Sometimes the most memorable moments of a vacation aren’t found on an itinerary. They’re found in the quiet spaces where you simply allow yourself to be.

As I head home, I’m bringing back more than photos and souvenirs. I’m bringing home renewed confidence, gratitude, and another reminder that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be deeply, wonderfully lived.