When we chose Hawkins Pointe RV Park, it wasn't because it was our dream destination.
It was because it was exactly where we needed to be.
Located just across the Tennessee-Georgia state line, Hawkins Pointe allowed us to stay close to everything that was familiar while we finished preparing for our new life on the road. We still had belongings to sell, a storage unit to organize, a tow truck to buy, and an empty garage in Big Bertha that somehow had to become my sewing room.
Looking back, those three months were probably some of the busiest we've ever had.
One of my biggest projects was figuring out how to create a functional sewing space inside the toy hauler. I desperately wanted to keep the two sewing tables I'd used in our house, but after measuring, rearranging, and trying every possible configuration, I had to admit they simply weren't going to fit.
That wasn't an easy decision.
Those tables had been part of countless quilting projects, but RV living has a way of teaching you that sometimes practicality has to win.
I eventually purchased a different setup for my sewing area. Is it my forever solution?
No.
In fact, I'm already planning changes because I'm not completely happy with it. But that's another story for another day.
For now, I'm learning to make the best of what I have.
One of the biggest jobs was sorting through my quilting supplies. The loft area quickly became home to totes filled with fabric, notions, patterns, and finished quilts. Even after downsizing from the house, I still had far more fabric than I could reasonably justify bringing with me.
Over those three months, I sorted, organized, donated, and sold.
By the time I was finished, I had parted with nearly a third of my fabric collection.
For a quilter, that's no small accomplishment!
Not everything found a new home before we left, though. The items I couldn't sell in time were moved into our storage unit, where they'll stay until we're ready to continue letting them go.
Downsizing, we've learned, isn't a one-time event.
It's an ongoing process.
While I was creating a sewing room, Greg was focused on another important piece of the puzzle—finding the right truck to pull Big Bertha.
He spent weeks debating between a Ford F-350 dually and a Ford F-450 dually. After plenty of research and more than a few conversations, he decided the F-450 was the better fit for us.
The only problem?
Finding the right one.
Several weeks passed before he finally located exactly what he wanted, and by late April, we had our tow vehicle.
Now we were finally ready.
Or so we thought.
Technically, once we had the truck, we could have hit the road immediately. But we had committed to a three-month stay at Hawkins Pointe and decided to honor that commitment rather than leaving early.
Looking back, I'm grateful we stayed.
Those extra weeks gave me more time to sell additional belongings, continue organizing the RV, and slowly settle into what full-time RV living would actually look like.
Even today, we still have items in storage that we'll eventually let go of.
That's okay.
This lifestyle isn't about becoming a minimalist overnight.
It's about slowly discovering what truly adds value to your life—and realizing that everything else is simply taking up space.
Those three months weren't glamorous.
We weren't sightseeing or posting pictures from breathtaking destinations.
But without those months of preparation, we wouldn't have been ready for the adventures that were waiting just down the road.
Sometimes the journey doesn't begin when you turn the key.
Sometimes it begins while you're standing still, preparing for everything that's about to change.
Have you ever spent months preparing for something that completely changed your life? We'd love to hear your story in the comments.
If you've never downsized for full-time RV living, let me tell you...
It's overwhelming.
We had only lived in a 1,500-square-foot house, but by the time we finished sorting through everything, it felt more like we were emptying a 4,000-square-foot home.
Where did all this stuff come from?
Room by room, cabinet by cabinet, we discovered things we had forgotten we even owned. Some items hadn't been touched since the day we moved in. It quickly became obvious that if we didn't even know we had it, we certainly didn't need to take it with us.
Trip after trip, we loaded the truck with donations for Goodwill.
The donations seemed endless.
One blessing came from the young man who purchased our home. He happened to be the son of one of our neighbors. As we packed, we asked if he wanted some of the household items, such as televisions and appliances.
Not only was he happy to take them, but during our final walkthrough he saw just how much work we still had ahead of us and insisted on us leaving several boxes behind instead of us having to make yet another trip to Goodwill. His parents were going to donate to people in the community that could use the stuff as they had lived in the neighborhood for quite some time and were aware of the needs of the people nearby.
That simple act of kindness became an unexpected blessing.
We ended up leaving quite a bit of our kitchen items because, as it turns out, an RV kitchen only has room for so much. There was simply no reason to bring duplicates when we were learning that less really could be more.
Some of the hardest things to let go of weren't everyday household items.
They were the things that represented the hobbies we loved.
For Greg, it was his boat.
For me, it was Miss Moxie, my longarm quilting machine.
Ironically, Greg's boat sold the very same day we received the contract on our house. My longarm found its new home the following week.
Neither of those sales was easy.
Those weren't just possessions—they represented years of memories, hobbies we enjoyed, and a chapter of life we truly loved.
Looking back now, I realize we weren't just selling things.
We were making room for something new.
Even after moving into Big Bertha at Hawkins Pointe RV Park, our downsizing wasn't finished. During the three months we stayed there, we continued selling items from our storage unit as we realized there was even more we didn't need.
Some things made the move.
Some things didn't.
Even today we're still figuring it out. We've replaced towels more than once, changed our bedding several times, and reorganized cabinets more times than I can count. Living in an RV has taught us that it's perfectly okay to change your mind until you find what works best.
One of the biggest lessons we've learned through this entire process is simple:
Don't sweat the small stuff.
At the end of the day...
It's just stuff.
The memories, the people, the adventures, and the experiences are what truly matter.
Everything else is replaceable.
Looking back, I don't remember every box we packed or every item we donated.
I remember the excitement of beginning a new chapter, the kindness of people who helped us along the way, and the freedom that came with realizing we needed far less than we ever imagined.
Sometimes, letting go isn't about losing something.
Sometimes, it's about making room for the life you've been dreaming about.
If you've downsized your home—or you're thinking about it—what was the hardest thing for you to let go of? We'd love to hear your story.
There are certain days in life that you know will change everything.
For us, that day was March 3, 2026.
After months of planning, dreaming, researching, and asking ourselves more than once if we were really ready to do this again, we signed the paperwork for our brand-new 2026 Brinkley G4100 fifth wheel.
We had officially become RV owners once again.
Of course, every RV deserves a name, and ours quickly became Big Bertha. At nearly 46 feet long, she certainly earned it!
The very next day, on March 4th, Big Bertha was delivered to her temporary home at Hawkins Pointe RV Park in Rossville, Georgia, just across the Tennessee-Georgia state line. Seeing her sitting there for the first time was both exciting and a little overwhelming.
This wasn't just another RV.
This was about to become our home.
For the next three months, Hawkins Pointe would serve as our home base while we wrapped up the final chapter of our life in our house. We still had a home to sell, furniture to sort through, boxes to pack, storage units to fill, and countless decisions about what would make the move into our new home on wheels.
If you've ever downsized from a house into an RV, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Every item suddenly becomes a question.
"Do we really need this?"
"Where in the world is this going to fit?"
"Can we live without it?"
Some things were easy to part with.
Others carried years of memories that made every donation box a little harder to fill.
While the work was exhausting, every trip from the house to Big Bertha made the dream feel a little more real. Cabinet by cabinet, closet by closet, we slowly transformed an empty RV into a place we could call home.
There were moments of excitement.
There were moments of frustration.
And there were definitely moments when we wondered how everything we owned had ever fit inside a house in the first place!
Looking back now, those three months were just as much a part of our journey as the miles we've traveled since. They taught us that this lifestyle isn't just about beautiful campgrounds and scenic highways.
It's about simplifying.
It's about choosing experiences over possessions.
It's about creating a life that gives us the freedom to wake up somewhere new whenever we're ready.
Big Bertha wasn't just a new RV.
She represented a brand-new chapter in our lives.
And little did we know, the adventures were only just beginning.
Have you ever downsized into an RV or dreamed about doing it? We'd love to hear your story! Share your biggest challenge—or your biggest surprise—in the comments below.
Once we made the decision to return to RV life, selling the house became the first step in making that dream a reality.
Sometimes life has a way of reminding you that you're exactly where you're supposed to be.
When we mentioned to one of our neighbors that we were thinking about selling, they suggested we speak with another neighbor before putting the house on the market. They were pretty sure someone they knew would be interested.
They were right.
We showed the house that day, and by that evening we had a signed contract.
Just like that.
It all happened so quickly that it felt like more than coincidence. It felt like God was opening the next door for us and confirming we were following the path He had planned.
With the house sold, we faced the next challenge...
What in the world were we going to do with all of our stuff?
Greg and I have only been married for 12 years, and we'd lived in this house on Posey Hollow Road for just two and a half years. It's amazing how much a person can accumulate in such a short amount of time. Every closet, cabinet, and corner seemed to hold things we had forgotten we even owned.
As difficult as the downsizing process was, what I knew I would miss most wasn't the furniture or the decorations.
It was the memories.
My favorite part of the house was my sewing room and quilting room. The sewing room was filled with shelves of colorful fabric waiting to become quilts, bags, and gifts. Across the hall was my quilting room, where I spent countless hours creating what I like to call a little bit of magic with Miss Moxie, my longarm quilting machine.
But that's a story for another day.
Outside, I had spent two years building a garden that brought me so much joy. In fact, I was already making plans for what I wanted to plant in the spring.
Then there were the rose bushes.
Those may have been the hardest thing to leave behind.
I had planted a yellow rose in memory of my late husband and a pink rose for Greg's late wife. Every spring they bloomed as a quiet reminder that although love sometimes ends too soon, the memories never fade.
Knowing I wouldn't be there to watch them bloom again brought more tears than I expected.
But sometimes the hardest goodbyes make room for the greatest adventures.
Although we left behind a house we loved, we're carrying every one of those memories with us. They helped shape who we are, and they'll always be part of our story.
Now it's time to begin making new memories.
A new home.
New roads.
New campgrounds.
New friendships.
And countless adventures waiting just beyond the next bend.
Have you ever had to leave a place that held special memories? We'd love to hear what was hardest for you to say goodbye to.
