• Living abroad with only what fits in a carry-on has changed my definition of "enough."
• I no longer buy "just in case" stuff that rarely gets used, and I've found joy in a simple wardrobe.
• Ironically, the more I appreciate the things we own, the less attached I've become to them.

I'll admit it: I love shopping and the thrill of getting something new.

But ever since my husband and I started doing extended stays in Paris and other cities throughout Europe, I've surprised myself with how little I actually need.

We never check luggage because it's such a hassle, so whenever we get home after living out of carry-on suitcases for three months, I'll look around our apartment, open my closet, and think, "Wow, I forgot about most of this stuff."

Even though I'm a lifelong declutterer and keep our space tidy and organized, I've come to realize that getting by with only what fits in a carry-on has changed my definition of "enough."

Having fewer clothes makes getting dressed easier

It's kind of ironic that going to Paris, the fashion capital of the world, is where I've ended up with the smallest wardrobe. But as it turns out, having fewer options saves me a lot of mental energy and has made me more creative and intentional about what I wear.

I pack versatile pieces that work together so I can mix and match, rewear the same few pairs of pants, and do laundry every week. Even winter trips, when I have to pack bulkier clothes, have proven that I can get by with much less than I ever thought possible.

I have dozens of sweaters at home since I'm a bit of a collector, but all I really need are just a few Quince cashmere fisherman turtlenecks.

I also love jewelry, hats, and sunglasses, and usually have multiple options based on my mood. But being away for months at a time has made me realize that I'm perfectly fine with having just a few accessories to rotate through.

Whenever I get back from one of our trips, I end up editing my closet because I realize there's so much I don't wear. Yes, it's nice to have all my clothes and accessories, but it also gets easier each time to give stuff away to friends, family, neighbors, or donation centers.

I've stopped buying so many 'just in case' items

It's easy to imagine all sorts of scenarios where I might need certain things, especially when traveling. (Should I pack a pair of heels in case we go to an ultra-fancy dinner? Or what if I suddenly need that scarf I haven't worn in five years?)

News flash: I've never needed something I didn't pack. It's a lesson that has made me less likely to shop on impulse.

I still love going on a T.J. Maxx run and filling up a cart while browsing my favorite sites. However, before I make a purchase, I ask myself if it's something I'll genuinely use or just something that I might hypothetically need one day.

If it doesn't pass the reality check, I don't buy it.

I'm much more thoughtful about what I bring into our apartment

Because we're on the move so much, being at home feels even more comforting. I love that our space is decorated with objects that spark joy, but over the last few years, I've become less interested in accumulating stuff.

Instead, I find myself appreciating what we already have — from our shelves full of books and framed photos of our family and travels to my houseplants that our wonderful neighbors take care of while we're away.

Funnily enough, though, the more I appreciate the things we own, the less attached I've become to most of them. I don't even feel much of an urge to buy things for our apartment because I know we'll be leaving again soon.

Having more options doesn't necessarily make life better

Whether it's my wardrobe, household items, or even food, I've realized I don't need endless options. Like, do I really need 12 types of tea in my cupboard at any given moment? Often, I'm fine with just a few bags of my go-to blends.

Traveling with just a carry-on has made me realize that day to day, I tend to stick to my core favorites and don't really need a million choices for everything. I get plenty of variety when I'm out exploring.

At home, I'm happy to keep things simple and enjoy what I already have. That's more than enough for me.

• People often assume that my best friend and I are sisters, but our connection is a little different.
• She's the now ex-wife of my ex-husband, though we connected while they were still together.
• She has become my person, the one I turn to in good times and bad.

When my best friend Shelley and I are out together, people often ask if we are sisters, even though we look nothing alike. Shelley has dark hair, dark eyes, and very fair skin, and while I also have fair skin, I'm a blue-eyed blonde. We get the question so frequently that it's almost comedic.

"No," we tell whoever is asking, "we're ex-wives-in-law."

This always gets a laugh, and when we explain our story, it brings a moment of levity to whomever we've encountered.

Behind what we've made into a little joke for public consumption is a unique bond that a lot of people wouldn't understand. It's a bond forged by trials, reinforced by implicit trust and devotion, and topped off with a whole lot of laughter and joy.

Our connection is unique

"Our Husband," as we call him, was intent on Shelley and me getting to know each other before they married. He and I have two sons, and Shelley has two sons from a previous marriage who are about the same age as my boys.

This meant that we had many of the same interests as boy moms by default, but, as it turned out, we also shared many of the same tastes in music, art, and books.

One milestone event of my life occurred early in Shelley's marriage to Our Husband. Shelley and I went to see Prince in concert together shortly before his death. I will never forget that night, and I'm so thankful that I got to see him perform live. In retrospect, I could see the spark of our friendship starting to glow that night.

Strangely enough, though, the night that I count as the true beginning of our friendship was the night that the Diane Sawyer interview featuring Caitlyn Jenner aired. For me, this was one of those events in the cultural zeitgeist that seemed like it should be witnessed with someone else. As it happened, all four of our boys were on the swim team together, and the program aired on the night of a meet. So, I forced the situation. Our Husband was working that evening, and I told her I'd be over with food to cook dinner for all of us. I came to her house — the house that she shared with Our Husband, who was my ex, of course — and we made dinner for ourselves and the boys, drank some wine, and watched the interview. Our friendship grew from there.

Not everyone was on board at first

Shelley told me much later that she initially thought it was weird that, as Our Husband's ex-wife, I was so intent on being her friend.

She says her mother told her, "I think you might as well give in, I think she has decided you are friends." The truth is, I just plain liked her, and we had a lot in common, but her mom was right. I wasn't going anywhere.

The relationship evolved

Sadly, Shelley's marriage to Our Husband ended after four years. She has said that I put her back together after that all happened. I don't look at it that way. I simply was there for my friend. She emerged after that crisis like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, and our friendship grew, battle-hardened, to a new level. Through all this, we shared parenting crises and triumphs, career battles and successes, and personal health scares.

Then, together, we went through something foundationally shattering for both of us. We both cared for our aging mothers, and connected even more deeply after they both died.

For a daughter, losing a mother is a life-changing event. On top of that, being a family caregiver, being involved in the deeply draining day-to-day process of shepherding a loved one toward and through their transition in death, is a solemn responsibility, the parameters of which are indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it.

As it happened, just by circumstance, Shelley walked those paths ahead of me and alongside me, and we held each other together through tears and laughter along the way. Shelley's mother died on March 18, 2019. My mother died on March 16, three years later. Shortly after she passed, Shelley, Our Husband, and I sat in my living room and toasted her with a round of her favorite drink, gin and tonics, in recognition of the valiant battle she had just completed.

Our Husband had thoughts

So how does Our Husband feel about Shelley and I being so close? For him, it's been kind of like the five stages of grief. First, he tried to deny that we were actually friends. Surely, we were just pretending to be friends — certainly, this was just a charade, we were just doing this to spite him. Then came anger. Apparently, we were friends, which just wasn't appropriate in his view. Next, there was bargaining. If we'd stop seeing each other, he'd be nicer. Then, of course, depression. Yes, Shelley and I were friends, and that just sucked. Now, there is acceptance. Sometimes, he refers to her as my "girlfriend."

Of course, a lot of time has passed, and I like to think that all three of us have grown a great deal. Shelley and Our Husband have been divorced for 10 years. My relationship with Our Husband has gone through many evolutions. He and I have been divorced for 14 years and apart for 17. Above all else, he gave me the greatest gift one human being can ever give another in making me a mother, and we have two wonderful sons who are young men now, out in society, being productive citizens.

Little did he know he'd also give me another wonderful gift when he got divorced for a second time. He gave me my best friend for life, my person.

• My husband and I took my 75-year-old mom to Croatia, Montenegro, and Bosnia and Herzegovina.
• During the two-week trip, I had to make some adjustments to my typical travel style.
• Overall, though, my mom really impressed me and I was surprised by what she could handle.

"I want to go to Montenegro," my mom told me over the phone. She was back home in Chicago, and I was in France, where my husband and I had moved three years earlier.

It wasn't entirely surprising. Since we moved abroad, my mom has been eager to travel more. But Montenegro? The idea felt a little random, which made it all the more intriguing.

Turns out she'd spotted a video of the country on Facebook, likely on one of the Polish-language pages she follows.

I was excited to share another adventure with her, especially one she'd chosen. And if we were going that far, I figured we may as well see more of the region.

After all, I'm a travel blogger and journalist, and my mom has become increasingly interested in seeing what I do and experiencing firsthand what I enjoy so much about travel.

She'd visited us a few times since we moved to France, but the Balkans would be a bigger adventure.

I planned for my husband and me to take her to three countries (Croatia, Montenegro, and Bosnia and Herzegovina) over two weeks. This meant navigating border crossings outside the European Union, handling several layers of logistics, and creating a plan that would work for my mom, who would turn 75 on the trip.

I knew my usual travel pace wasn't going to work for this trip, so we had to plan ahead

My husband and I are active travelers. We regularly rack up 20,000-step days, love a hike to a panoramic viewpoint, and push through heat and discomfort because we're of the "We may never come back here" mindset. Whenever we can, we also take public transit.

My mom travels differently. She spent 40 years as a server, so she's no stranger to being on her feet and is generally in good health, but retirement has slowed her down.

Even on her most active days, she moves at a gentler pace. Hills are particularly challenging, and long stretches of walking, especially on uneven surfaces, can catch up with her.

Before booking accommodations or transportation, I considered the physical demands of each day. I checked elevation changes for walks between hotels and the places we wanted to visit, looked for ways to avoid unnecessary uphill treks, and ruled out extra-long guided tours.

I also hired private drivers ahead of time to give us more flexibility. This way, we could tailor the stops to our needs rather than follow a big group's schedule, including when we stopped, where we were dropped off, and how long we stayed.

We made small adjustments throughout to ensure my mom was comfortable

We started with three easy nights in Dubrovnik, Croatia. During our stay, we explored the popular Croatian city's Old Town and lingered over meals of fresh fish. We spent a lot of time in the pool, since I learned my mom has far more energy in the water than on land.

After that, we were driven into Montenegro, where we learned the importance of rest. On a hot day in Perast, she loved the short boat ride to the man-made island, Our Lady of the Rocks.

But by midday, the heat had made us all a little testy. Ice cream helped, but the real fix was learning to schedule breaks before we reached the point of needing them.

My husband and I usually take a late-afternoon break rather than staying out until dinner anyway. With my mom, we just moved it up a few hours. She never asked us to accommodate her, but I learned to tell when she needed one.

Sometimes, the best adjustment was giving ourselves permission to split up. In the Old Town of Kotor, Montenegro, which was walking distance from our base in Dobrota, my husband and I hiked up to the Kotor Fortress while she stayed behind to rest and feed the cat that adopted us for our three-day stay.

When we got back, she was ready to go, and we spent a few hours exploring together.

Our next leg of the trip was to Bosnia and Herzegovina, which included a four-hour stretch of winding mountain roads that left all of us feeling a little green — my mom most of all. This is where a private driver really paid off.

He pulled over so she could get some air and rest, waited without complaint or worry that we were on a tight schedule, and let her ride up front the rest of the drive.

On a big bus, she likely would have had to suffer through it.

By the end of the trip, I was surprised by what she could handle

Our group of three felt almost like a well-oiled machine by our last stop to Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. At this point, I knew what worked and what didn't. Steep hills were a no-go. Long car rides were hard and great to avoid, when possible. She could handle a full day if we built in breaks.

In Sarajevo, we took several guided tours to learn about the city's history and war. My mom had lived through hardship herself in Poland before immigrating to the U.S. in the 1980s, so I wasn't sure how she'd react to heavier subjects. She was fascinated.

During the siege, a narrow tunnel — known as the Tunnel of Hope — was dug under the airport to move food, supplies, and people. Today, you can walk through a short restored section. I assumed she'd wait outside, but she walked right through.

That's what I learned most from traveling with my mom. I couldn't assume what she could or couldn't do. Instead, I simply had to pay attention.

She didn't need me to plan a completely different trip. She needed me to understand that her version of a good travel day looked a little different from mine, and that it can be just as full.

• I'm Gen Z and have always valued rest, leisure, and finding balance in my life.
• My 86-year-old grandfather has worked as a doctor for 60 years and refuses to retire.
• His dedication has changed how I think about ambition, purpose, and growing older.

As a Gen Z, I have struggled with my work ethic. I have learned to optimize leisure, travel, and rest, and to get into a flow state. However, my grandfather's work ethic has made me rethink my approach.

At 86, my grandfather refuses to retire. For the past 60 years, he has woken up at the same time every morning, showered, dressed immaculately, had breakfast, and left for his work as a general physician in his private clinic.

Barring sickness and rare travel, he has never taken a day off, never deviated from schedule, and has an enviable work ethic that I have not seen in anyone. My grandmother, who was 70, died last year, and he was back to work in a week.

He is the eldest son

Born in 1940 in the small town of Gonda in North India, he was the eldest of six younger siblings. In 1966, at the age of 26, he began his medical practice after completing his MBBS.

From the beginning, he has been focused on his career and his responsibilities as the eldest son of a South Asian family. He worked in big hospitals, then opened a private practice a few years later, and he also established a Rotary Club Chapter in his city, leading it many times in the decades that followed.

There has always been a deep sense of empathy in him, which has made him a very considerate doctor for those who are economically marginalized. Because he charged less, took his time to understand each patient's issue, and prescribed medicines with great care, he gained popularity in his city very soon.

After six decades, the patients who were once young men and women bring their grandchildren from different cities to be treated by him. Only two years ago, he scaled back his work, working only till lunch. So now many patients come home in an emergency. "I don't like turning them away. Helping them makes me feel elated," he told me in one of our weekly phone calls.

He doesn't want to retire

From his work, he built a home for his parents and siblings, and another for his wife and children. He paid for the education of most of his siblings and put down a significant sum when it was time for them to get married. In short, he has been responsible for every role and relationship in his life.

He has three kids, two daughters and a son. They feel as if he should take it easy. "Why don't you retire?" My mother asked him a few years ago, and he shook his head vigorously, as if the thought itself was impossible.

"There were friends who were much healthier than me. They retired early, and I have seen many of them pass away," was his response to my mom. He also feels that being in a perpetual state of rest will dull his senses. Barring a partial hearing loss in one ear and a decrease in activity level due to age, he is fit and completely Independent.

He makes time to enjoy life

He can decide if he ever wants to retire because he has built his own practice, which is a privilege. However, he hasn't denied himself the pleasures of life either. He took time off to go on vacations and spent dedicated time with his kids, parents, and wife.

From him, I am learning that having a work ethic also means having a deep respect for your own life. It is not just dedication to his work; his ethic showcases his will to live as long as he can, independently. I want to live a purposeful and robust life, helping and guiding others and being of use till it's time to go. I want to eat clean, work out every day, put in the work to nurture my ambition, spend time with my loved ones, and focus on my goals. His work ethic has also shown me how he values his time. He nourishes it, nurtures it, and uses it to build a better life for himself. An honorable relationship with time and hard work has led him here.

He wants to be a functional part of society, and it has given me a fresh perspective on how I want to live my life. It is an odd thought, but I aspire to have a work ethic just like his and not retire.