I refuse to wait until I’m 65 to have the life I want. 

We (Americans) are supposed to toil away under fluorescent lights for 40 years before ever getting substantial relief. What if, at the end of all that, we’re not healthy enough to travel? What if, by then, Europe is 120°F in May?

I suggest – nay, insist! – we sprinkle retirement throughout our lives instead of bursting into it in our final decades, winded from the effort. Think about it: who would you rather be when a group of new friends invites you to a party that starts at midnight? What state would you prefer your knees be in while climbing steps in Positano? How would you like to look as you chat with a tall, elegant man in linen who can take you to dinner on his Vespa?

Yeah, that’s what I thought. (As an aside: I do want to be clear that the lady on the right also deserves great things!)

You can’t have the fruits of your labor and eat them, too. When you’re busy earning money, it’s hard to find the time to enjoy it; when you’ve got time on your hands, there’s not always money flowing into them. There is some gambling involved: do I believe I am good enough at what I do to get re-hired to do it again when I’m ready? Am I willing to pinch pennies for a while after the fact if not? 

I consider this a DIY trust fund. I trust myself to make money. I trust myself to have the discipline and focus to find more work after stepping away from it. I’m uber-capitalist part of the year, taking on multiple bookings and juggling side-hustles when I can, and a light socialist the rest. I work in order to not-work. When it rains, it pours, and I run around with buckets trying to catch as much as I can, knowing that drought will come. And when it does? I get on a plane. 

I want to live like I don’t have to wait to retire to feel alive.

A fellow freelancer, who is from Amsterdam, once remarked upon the difficulty of adjusting to American work culture. She said, “Always vacation for at least two weeks. Because if you’re gone for less time, people will pile up tasks for you to do when you return. But if you’re gone longer, someone else will simply have to do the work.” Easier said than done, I know. But also: genius.

In the summer of 2022, I spent 38 days in Italy on a solo trip where I subsisted merely on my own whims. When asked if I was there for work or for vacation, I answered, “neither?” When asked if I’d be moving to Rome, I said, “no?” I just wanted to put life as I knew it on hold for a while – to enjoy an early, mini retirement.

“How was it?!” My friends asked upon my return. “Great,” I said. I started a whole new life, and none of you were there, and now I’m back. I felt comfort in the notion that we don’t have to exist solely in the places we are spat out. (This comfort made it easier for me to keep living the life I have been spat out in.)

You might know the Italian term “Dolce Far Niente” – the sweetness of doing nothing. But have you ever truly done nothing in a place you dreamt of vacationing? Have you allowed yourself to stay in bed all day with a book when you’re hungover, or to grant that the only tolerable activity in such heat is to drink wine by a fan in the shade for several hours?

As you’ll read in a few of my former and upcoming posts, I absolutely did not literally do nothing. In fact, I: feasted, befriended, dated, swam, spritzed, learned, spoke, saw, scootered, dreamt, slept, wept.

It could be that I need this sort of time so desperately because I am incapable of behaving this way in my day-to-day life. Rome Rosalee does not need permission to eat pasta, again, without even having gone to the gym. Paris Rosalee gets treated to a fabulous vintage jacket, while New York Rosalee (that’s me, most of the time) chastises herself for replacing her worn-out sandals. Rosalee Who Vacations enjoys the occasional romantic fling without fear of its future failure (or, even more terrifying, potential success).  Maybe, when I take myself out of context, I let myself be. How extravagant!

For some, luxury is The Ritz, or a private jet. For me, luxury is the calm I have in knowing that I can always create a new life and a new self, worth living and worth being. I can visit my life in Rome, and that Rosalee can seamlessly resume the sweetness of doing nothing.

I will never turn down a classic, quick vacation, and you shouldn’t either. But please, try taking the time to get to know yourself in another place and language, untethered from your usual guardrails. Try rolling the local slang around in your mouth, feeling it on your tongue, tasting it as it bursts like an overripe berry plucked fresh from a sunny vine.

Try living an early, mini retirement. And send yourself a postcard so you won’t forget it.