Florida welcomes you! September 30, 2025

Applying for a Florida Driver’s License was never on my radar. Had you asked me about this in January, I would have said that I was more likely to shave my head and join a cult than move to Florida. I was a Seattleite through and through: the grey, misty days, the green forest trails, and the ever-changing seascape that is Puget Sound. I loved the cool, aloof, and nerdy culture that is Seattle. But sometimes, you just have to follow the breadcrumbs.

‘Michelle’s house across the street may be going on the market. She is talking about selling, but it will definitely need a complete remodel,’ my sister Laura texted me from Winter Park, Florida. I was enjoying the few days of July sunshine in West Seattle, appreciating the emerald summer.

Bantering back and forth, we played with the idea of what it would be like to be neighbors. I loved my life in Seattle, but missed being closer to family and didn’t relish another annual bout of seasonal affective disorder, where even happy lights and Vitamin D did little to counter the strong urge to hibernate and retreat from life. Laura loved her Winter Park life, but I shuddered at living in a tropical climate.

Could I relocate to Florida to be closer to my sister? For years, this wasn’t even a consideration. A red state filled with hurricanes, mosquitoes, and alligators. A state where sunshine, heat, and humidity are the norm, where my curly hair becomes a walking hygrometer. As I added more candles to my birthday cake, it was time to start thinking about my future. Life is short. Something inside me said: it’s time. I dipped my toe into the relocation pool to check the temperature. A little brisk, maybe in 6-9 months, after I’ve had time to consider this, I might make the decision. I booked a flight to visit my sister in December to test things out.

But winter was coming, and I dreaded the Big Dark, where daylight is limited to 8 hours and grey clouds take up permanent residence in the Pacific Northwest skies. What would I gain by staying through another winter? Would the real estate market really be better in the spring? It was time to dive into the pool.

Within a week, I had crafted a plan to leave Seattle and put my house on the market in the next 30 days. My time consisted of packing, folding boxes, and making decisions around what to keep and what to leave behind. I sold or gave away all of my furniture and pared my belongings down to one 8 ft x 8 ft x 8 ft container. By September 23rd, the house was empty, and my car was packed with travel belongings. Selkie, my four-month-old puppy, and I set out for an eight-day, 3123-mile cross-country adventure in an electric vehicle.

Kelly, my realtor, managed all the home preparation and sale details. The home sold quickly, and we closed on October 24th. In less than 90 days, we moved from ‘wouldn’t it be cool to be neighbors?’ to ‘would you mind picking up some avocados while you’re out?’.

Seattle is now just a memory. A ‘this was meant to be’ vibe hovered over me during those 90 days. As new breadcrumbs appeared daily, I took another step. I still wake up astonished with this unexpected turn in the road.
Those 90 days were not without many panicky middle-of-the-night moments, reverberating in my head at 3 a.m., ‘Cynthia, what the flock are you doing? You love where you live. Why would you give this all up?’. But those thoughts eventually faded as I continued to make trips to Goodwill and the Little Free Libraries. I kept listening to my heart, patiently waiting for my brain to catch up. Like migrating geese, my brain was the goose at the tail-end of the V formation trying to keep up with the rest of the flock.

It’s now been 5 weeks since Selkie and I arrived, and my day is freckled with daily connection points with my sister during walks, lunches, and trips to the grocery store. We continue Selkie’s training, teaching her that Laura’s smaller, older dog, Clark, is not a stuffed toy waiting to be jumped on.

While I still miss my beloved Emerald City, I love that my life is richer and more connected here in the Sunshine State. There is local comedy watching neighbors argue and make yard signs over who’s allowed to park on the street in front of whose house. I’ve rediscovered the joy of swimming with a master’s swim team in an outdoor pool. While leaving the house without my puffer jacket feels unnatural, my favorite pink one waits patiently at the back of my closet, just in case.

90 days, 3,123 miles, and one puppy

cynthia lait

90 days, 3,123 miles, and one puppy

Are you Arguing with Reality?

cynthia lait