When the inheritance check landed, my wife and I faced a choice: be practical for our kids, or finally be selfish. We chose selfish—and it was the best decision we ever made.
We invested in a used camper, not college funds. Our grown children, far from being upset, were thrilled. “You’ve sacrificed enough,” they said. So we wandered—through redwood forests, along rocky coastlines, across sunbaked deserts. The simplicity of life on the road stripped away decades of parental identity, revealing the adventurous souls we’d been in our twenties.
In a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Wyoming town, we met Mae, a 68-year-old diner owner who’d never seen the ocean. Her eyes lit up describing Parisian cafés she’d only read about. The next morning, we handed her an envelope with $15,000. “Go,” we said. She protested, then wept.
Months later, a postcard arrived from Nice: “First time seeing the Mediterranean. Thank you for teaching an old woman to dream.” Our kids, witnessing this, began reprioritizing their own lives—chasing fulfillment over security.
That inheritance didn’t just fund our midlife adventure; it became a masterclass in living. Turns out, spending on yourself can be the most generous act of all.
