Back on the Road Again: Choosing Simplicity, One View at a Time

A few months ago, I wrote about selling my van and how, even after letting it go, I could still hear the road calling. I didn’t realize then how true that would be—or how soon I’d be answering that call again.

Now, I’m back in a van. And while it feels familiar, it also feels new. There’s something about coming back to something you love with a clearer heart—you see it differently.

When I first stepped inside, it brought me back to the smell of the coast, slow mornings with a coffee while checking the waves, and the golden hour moments at sunset. I instantly remembered what I’d been missing, the freedom that comes from carrying just the essentials and realizing how freeing it feels to live light. Out here, “enough” means a charged battery, a little water, and a view that makes you pause.

It’s simple. And that simplicity has a way of untangling everything else.

In a house or apartment, you don’t get to choose your view—someone else already decided what wall or street you’ll look at. But out here, I get to choose again.

One night it’s the sound of waves. Another night can be the wind through pine trees. Sometimes it’s a dirt pull-off overlooking the Pacific.

It’s not about chasing new places; it’s about remembering that we can choose. We can choose our view, our pace, and how much noise we allow into our days. Even if you’re not living in a van, you still get to choose what you let in—what you give your energy to, what you call “enough.”

When you live small, you start to notice what actually matters. You use less, waste less, and appreciate more. Every drop of water, every watt of power, every sunrise—it all counts.

You don’t need a van to live this way. You just need awareness. Maybe it’s taking a few minutes before checking your phone in the morning. Maybe it’s making your coffee slower, without rushing. Maybe it’s saying no to one more commitment and yes to stillness.

Vanlife taught me that simplicity isn’t just about having less—it’s about being present with what’s already here.

Being back on the road also makes me feel closer to my dad again. He loved his van and the freedom it gave our family. There are times I am brewing coffee on the camp stove, or roll down the window and breathe the salty air, I feel like he’s riding along.

It reminds me that life isn’t about how much we accumulate but how deeply we experience what’s right in front of us.

You don’t need to sell everything or move into a van to start over. Sometimes, starting over just means slowing down. Creating space to breathe again.

We live in a world that glorifies “more”—more work, more speed, more stuff. But maybe “more” isn’t what we need. Maybe what we really need is “enough.”

Being back in vanlife feels like coming home, not just to the road, but to myself. It’s a reminder that peace isn’t found in a place—it’s built through how we live.

So whether you’re in a van, an apartment, or a house overlooking someone else’s roofline—maybe take a moment today to choose your view. Literally or metaphorically. Because the view you choose shapes the life you see.