I’m a later-in-life adventurer who, after 47 years of marriage and 4 years of widowhood, three children, a passel of grandchildren, a lifetime in the clothing industry and then a second life in real estate, along with some training as a chef, who decided to pack up, sell almost all that I owned, and move to a small town in southwestern France.  It’s not Paris, as so many seem to assume when you say you are moving to France, but rather a fairytale town in the middle of farm country,  not so big you get lost, and not so small you get bored.  I did this with consideration of the cost of living here (amazingly affordable), with the realisation that I would prefer being a role model for my grandchildren by following the unanswered question  rather than staying close as a convenient carpooler, and because it felt like what I always wanted to experience, but never had.