In her sixtyish years—she knows
Our home, Chateau Mango in Vietnam— in my fiftyish years…
Thirteen years ago, on the morning of my 55th birthday, I sat at my desk in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam—thousands of miles from where I am today. We were one month into our expat life there, still finding our footing in a new city, in a new rhythm of life that felt otherworldly and surreal compared to the quiet English countryside we had left behind in Surrey.
The sounds of scooters and street vendors stirred the air, but inside, I felt something quieter—a turning point, though I couldn’t name it at the time.
That morning, I wrote a list—a gathering of thoughts and wonderings about where the road might lead next. I wrote a post titled In her fiftyish years… she thinks and sent it out into the world on my blog, Collage of Life. It was a letter to myself, written in the soft light of midlife, filled with questions about purpose, creativity, belonging, and what might be waiting around the bend.
I wrote then about longing for a simple home surrounded by books, flowers, and birdsong. I wondered what I would do with the rest of my life, quietly hoping it might be something wonderful. I wrote about learning to like my own company, leaning into the quiet.
I was fifty-five, standing on the threshold of the “what’s next” years—years that felt both full and uncertain, all at once.
What I didn’t know then was how quickly the shape of my life would begin to shift. Two weeks after I wrote that post, I traveled to New England in the golden light of autumn —and stepped into our forever home for the very first time. The house in the country I had quietly dreamed of was suddenly real, standing before me.
Today, I read those words from the vantage point of my sixties, and I smile.
Because now… I know.
That house in the country became Tahilla Farm—a place I never imagined in full detail back then, but one that quietly waited for me to catch up to it.
The creative stirrings, the longing to gather, the love of books and gardens, and storytelling—eventually became Tahilla Gatherings, where I now welcome others who are wondering, dreaming, and creating their next chapters.
The solitude I once approached tentatively has become my sanctuary.
The woman I was in my fifty-ish years thought about all these things.
The woman I am now knows they were already growing, quietly, beneath the surface.
If you are reading this and wondering what will become of your quiet thoughts—those flickers of curiosity, those “maybe one-day” dreams—I want you to know: they matter. They shape the life you are building, whether you see it now or not.
Sometimes, we don’t realize we’re writing the next chapter until we’ve already begun.
If you’d like to revisit that original post, you’ll find it here:
In her fiftyish years… she thinks
And if you feel inspired, I invite you to take a quiet moment for yourself today. Make a list of the things you think about in this season of your life—whether you are fiftyish, sixtyish, seventy-ish, or beyond. What is quietly blooming beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice?
I would love to hear what’s stirring for you.
With warmth from the woods,
Jeanne :))
