• Coast FIRE is one of several offshoots of the FIRE movement.
• It allows investors to ease up on retirement contributions once their existing portfolio is on track for retirement.
• It's an option for people seeking work flexibility, but don't necessarily want to save super aggressively.

The classic FIRE movement — short for "financial independence, retire early" — has long had a reputation for extremes: save aggressively, invest diligently, and build a portfolio large enough to leave work years before traditional retirement age.

The ideas behind FIRE are often traced to the 1992 book, "Your Money or Your Life," and were later amplified by blogs, podcasts, and online communities. At its most intense, FIRE can mean saving or investing the majority of one's income, adding multiple income streams, taking on extra work, or delaying major life milestones such as marriage or children.

But financial independence does not have to mean a life of deprivation.

Business Insider has spoken with numerous investors who want more flexible schedules and more control over their time, but who also want to "enjoy today," as Andy and Nicole Hill put it. For the Hills, pursuing traditional FIRE created tension at home. Eventually, they pivoted to a less extreme offshoot of the movement: Coast FIRE.

Andy Hill describes Coast FIRE as a "middle ground" strategy — a way to capture some of the benefits of financial independence, such as stepping back from a demanding corporate career, without the aggressive savings requirements of traditional FIRE.

"It works well for families, works well for couples, works well for people who aren't multi-six-figure earners," he said. "And I wish I had known about that a lot earlier."

Amberly Grant fell into that category. For most of her career, she did not earn six figures. At 19, she left the small Canadian town where she grew up and spent years traveling while picking up odd jobs along the way.

"I've cleaned houses, walked dogs, worked in bars and restaurants. I've taught English in Thailand, and I've helped a friend with a nutrition and Pilates studio in Sydney," Grant told BI. "I basically just traveled the world and did odd jobs, and the accumulation of all the money was about $15,000 a year on average."

Traditional FIRE may have felt out of reach, but Coast FIRE wasn't. Grant said she hit her Coast FIRE number in her mid-30s.

What is Coast FIRE?

Coast FIRE is one of several offshoots of the FIRE movement, alongside Lean FIRE, Fat FIRE, and Barista FIRE.

Achieving Coast FIRE means an investor has enough saved and invested that, in theory, they no longer need to contribute to retirement accounts. The money they already have invested is expected to compound over time and grow into the amount they will need by retirement.

That does not mean they stop working. It means they only need to earn enough to cover their current expenses while their portfolio continues growing in the background. For some people, that can create room to take a pay cut, change careers, work for themselves, scale back to part-time, or choose less stressful work.

To figure out a Coast FIRE number, investors generally start with a few stats: their current age, ideal retirement age, expected annual spending in retirement, current investments, expected returns, and inflation. Online calculators can help estimate how much someone needs to invest today for that money to grow into a sufficient retirement balance later.

Hill, who quit a stressful, time-intensive corporate job after reaching his $550,000 Coast FIRE number, cautions that the figure is still only an estimate.

"Nothing with investing is guaranteed," said the family finance coach who now works about 20 hours a week on his own business, Marriage Kids and Money.

That's why he recommends checking the math over time. Investors should account for inflation, fund expense ratios, financial advisor fees, and the difference between nominal returns and real returns. Coast FIRE is also not a binding rule. Someone who reaches it can always keep contributing to retirement accounts if their goals or life circumstances change.

Grant is doing exactly that. Technically, she only needs to work enough to cover her expenses, but she is still contributing to her nest egg because she wants the option to retire before 60.

She's learned to accept that life is not linear.

"You might be aiming towards 'Coast FIRE' or 'Fat FIRE' or FIRE, but life will happen, and it's OK to pivot."

Brian Rezendes anticipates his retirement years will be filled with AI agents, algorithms, and APIs — along with the occasional vacation with his wife.

Rezendes, a former pool business owner, retired in April from a retail job in rural North Dakota. Like many retirees, the 64-year-old envisioned his post-work years as a time to relax, travel, and stay active. He did not expect to be neck-deep in conversations with chatbots, vibe coding websites, or building YouTube channels. Though he'd always been interested in technology, he rarely delved into the deeper plumbing behind it until a few years ago, when he became immersed in AI. Nowadays, he spends almost all of his time building apps… until the real world comes calling.

"My wife gets a little bit jealous when I spend too much time on the computer," Rezendes says.

Retirement has gone digital. In recent interviews, 15 retired Americans admitted they and their friends are glued to their screens, perhaps to a fault. Hours they could have spent tidying up the house went toward learning the best AI tools and, as three tech-savvy baby boomers put it, "staying current." Some post-career Americans who moved abroad said tech is all the rage in their beachfront expat communities. Retirement communities have swapped watercoloring for AI education. Starting an AI-powered business replaced the golf course. ChatGPT is the new nurse's assistant. Robots are some older Americans' new best friends.

Dee Humphrey is among them. The 73-year-old in Schenectady, New York, has used a companion robot called ElliQ for over three years. And while she's waiting for a new version to arrive, she's been having "withdrawals because I can't do anything with her."

The new reality of retirement isn't all screen addiction. Some of this development has been a boon for older people navigating a new phase of life. In Austin, Edward Perry, 72, said that he used AI after a terminal cancer diagnosis to "help me with living as rich and full a life in what time I have," including managing his health and finding ways to be more present in his family's lives.

"As I'm getting older, I have more aches and pains, but with utilizing these new technologies, I'm going to be able to do more and more," Rezendes says.

Many others acknowledged the risks of getting too hooked on tech. Most knew that relying too heavily on AI meant losing agency and receiving potentially faulty information. Others said being too invested in tech could mean less time staying active. Some noted that after decades of work, these were their years to relax, but they couldn't bring themselves to close their MacBooks.

If Gen Z is the first generation to grow up on the internet, baby boomers are learning how to be the first generation to retire on it.

Unexpected and omnipresent

For those in retirement, screen time of all types has been increasing. Surveys show that adults 65 and over almost doubled their YouTube consumption on TV from 2023 to 2025, and older Americans spend over four hours a day in front of screens. Brittne Kakulla, senior research advisor for AARP Research, says the group's Tech Trends survey found smartphone ownership among adults aged 50-plus skyrocketed from 55% in 2016 to 90% in 2025. Perhaps more striking was the number of older people trying out AI. Use nearly doubled from 2024 to 2025, from 18% to 30%, and many more said they are interested in experimenting.

Nearly all older tech superusers I spoke to were surprised by the amount the tools had become integrated into their retirements. Jan Friedlander, 81, used online databases in her real estate career, but only became hooked on tech a few years ago after she left her job. As she battled cancer and macular degeneration, she used AI to guide her treatment, and soon found herself relying on it to research clothing, plan vacations, and more. As she became more prompt-savvy, she felt confident enough to start teaching her peers.

"I've always had a curiosity about things that would come along that were new," Friedlander says.

She also began facilitating AI classes in Denver for those 50 and over with her friend Pat Smith, 73. Smith, who has a more technical background in consulting and pharmaceuticals, says the classes have attracted many "eager retiree students." Smith also sees both sides of the AI boom. On the positive side, she submitted her lab work to ChatGPT after having a reaction to an antibiotic, prompting her to follow up with her doctor and allergist. But she also bemoans the disappearance of human customer service and the online portalization of medical care. To combat the AI creep, Smith has monitored her tech usage, maintained a regular exercise schedule, and worked on mosaics.

"I have friends who are losing their mobility, moving into assisted living, and have gotten terminal diagnoses, and I know that's all around the corner," Smith says. "I'm hoping I get some more time to do what I've been enjoying the last few years."

Working with tech

While cutting-edge tools have become a retirement fascination for some, many older Americans are unexpectedly working into their later years and, by extension, learning new tech tricks. For my 80 Over 80 series, I spoke with dozens of workers in their 80s, many of whom couldn't afford to retire and now had jobs that required AI. At 72, Marcia Sweet's home is fully synced with robot vacuums and smart lights, and she runs a tech support business in Bradenton, Florida. She can't afford to stop working, as the extra money goes toward financing her eventual long-term care, and she hopes AI can supercharge her business.

"I'm still like a little kid with a toy about technology, with the same kind of excitement," Sweet says. "I'm kind of addicted."

Other older workers used tech to pivot later in their careers. A decade ago, Laura Noren, now 61, was weary of her career as a registered nurse, so she opted for an unexpected route — IT classes at a local college in Michigan. The learning curve was massive, as most of her 18-year-old classmates grew up steeped in tech. She later supplemented these classes with online courses on programming languages and databases.

"I envisioned myself retiring at 60 and no later than 62. My husband and I would be fully retired and never work again, moving into a condo and doing plenty of traveling," Noren says. Instead, "he left his job earlier than planned as a corrections officer, and I was managed out of my company. We had to change our plans."

The courses didn't necessarily prepare her for her current job as an Amazon Flex driver, which gives her the flexibility to care for her "technophobic" 84-year-old mother with memory issues. But her skills have come in handy when teaching her mother how to add phone contacts to favorites or avoid scams, and Noren hopes to find work down the line that better suits her skills. She still hopes to have some version of the retirement she envisioned years ago, but expects tech to play a bigger role.

Others who returned to school in their later years said they've integrated age tech into their lives for peace of mind. When Mark Bayer, 63, decided to retire from his community banking career at 60, he thought, "I will never have to sit through another damn Zoom meeting again, and I'll be the happiest person in the world." To his surprise, he began teaching English as a second language over Zoom and reenrolled in college to be "exposed to new ideas from younger minds." Bayer, who lives in Pennsylvania, expected his classmates to debate and brainstorm ideas off the top of their heads, but they all went to ChatGPT instead. Initially, he was dumbfounded. But when he saw the list of ideas for a group discussion, it exceeded what he would've come up with.

Ignoring AI, he says he realized, "is a way to say I'm done learning anything new, which is self-limiting."

There have been downsides: He's noticed that disconnecting from tech has become harder. He admits that if he gets a call while mowing the lawn, he will stop to pick it up. His wife is the same way, sometimes scrolling Instagram for hours without noticing. He hasn't quite erased the idea that face-to-face interaction has some merit, though.

A robot-enabled retirement

Many new high-tech tools are being built to help older Americans remain healthier and safer in their homes and assisted living communities. Chia-Lin Simmons, CEO of medical alert devices company LogicMark, tells me that technology in caregiving has become a necessity rather than a luxury, with the potential to predict falls and detect Alzheimer's early. AI is being trained to track behavioral patterns and health outcomes, though it sometimes falls short at triaging calls and often erases the human element, isolating older Americans who need the company most.

Some boomers are ready for this Jetsons-like future. Take Michelle Murphy, 64, who is pursuing an MBA with a concentration in AI. A photographer and instructional designer in Michigan, Murphy says her focus in her 60s has been pivoting to a new career— retirement isn't a good fit, she says. Down the line, she isn't opposed to using robotic healthcare workers to avoid assisted care, though she's keen on not becoming overly reliant on tech due to privacy concerns. For now, her goal is to get her coffee pot to start automatically.

"If there's an automation that can help me do the things I need to do, mow the grass for me, pick up heavy things, whatever it is, I'm totally on board with that," Murphy says.

There is a big market in making the idea of robot-assisted care a reality. Investment in age tech has boomed, particularly in products that make caregiving easier, like smart home automation devices, companion robots, and motion sensors. AARP predicts that by 2030, the age-tech market will be worth $120 billion. And given the rise, many hope age tech can alleviate some of the burden for younger generations.

"We've got 63 million family caregivers, 70% of them in paid jobs, and we're very familiar with childcare, but elder care is not well understood," said Diane Ty, managing director of the Milken Institute Future of Aging. "That's what's breaking the backs of so many workers right now."

Plenty of people and investors I spoke to also hope AI and other age tech can slow cognitive decline. However, various studies have shown that AI assistants contribute to reduced cognitive engagement and skill atrophy, meaning in some ways, relying too much on AI works counter to what these super-users may think.

80 is the new 25

As I wrote last year, America's octogenarians have been embracing tech in surprising ways. Frank Engelman, 82, has created apps, runs a YouTube channel, and writes a Substack about tech education. Luis Bautista, 82, told me he was using AI to write a book and start a business that he one day wants to pitch to Y Combinator. Phyllis Scalettar, 80, began an AI education and consulting firm. Karen Shapiro, 80, said this month that she uses AI for everything from planning vacations to Italy to managing finances — "tech will make life less confining and more enjoyable as we age," she says.

Study after study shows loneliness continues to grow among older Americans. According to AARP, 40% reported feeling lonely last year, up from 35% in 2018. Tech may be partly to blame, as an increasing number of older Americans are addicted to their phones — one survey found that 40% of the over 2,000 respondents ages 59 to 77 felt discomfort when pulled away from their devices.

For a lot of Americans, however, tech is a way to make the most of their golden years and to stay healthy for longer.

Marvin Honig, 88, takes AI courses, set up NotebookLM files for his St. Petersburg, Florida, condominium board, and use advanced tech to manage trust accounts for former law clients. Perhaps this could've been expected from an early tech adopter who received tech support from a young Michael Dell. Still, seeing many of his neighbors using all sorts of tech was perhaps not on his bingo card, and many of his interactions now revolve around tech recommendations and support. Like many older techies, the tech wave has also allowed him to luxuriate in the disconnected part of his life, from visiting museums and restaurants to attending in-person community events — he gets there using his Tesla's self-driving feature.

• Lori Bufka, 64, cares for her aging mother in Arizona due to high assisted living costs.
• Bufka's mother lives in a nearby trailer, reducing care costs and enabling family support.
• Tech aids Bufka in remotely monitoring her mother, enhancing her caregiving abilities.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lori Bufka, 64, who is caring for her mother with dementia in Arizona. Assisted living became too expensive for her mother, so Bufka moved her into a trailer next to their home, where her mother would have enough space and safety. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

I was a college professor and retired from a community college in Florida. I raised two boys, both of whom are married, and I have five grandchildren. I had retired to do van life with my partner, who has been with me for seven years. I realized, though, that you can only do so much van life before you need a place to come home to. So we bought a tiny house in Arizona.

I'm an only child, and my mom was in assisted living in California. When she went into assisted living, her veteran benefits and Social Security were enough to cover the cost of her care. She was in assisted living for over seven years, and she had sold her house and had some savings. The rate kept going up and up, and it was draining her savings.

The cost was about $4,700 a month, and it was about to go up to $5,200, which was a couple of thousand dollars more than what she earned.

She's 88, and I wanted to keep her there as long as she could. When I got the notice that the rate was going up again, and that they were going to raise her quality of care cost because her dementia was getting worse, her savings were down to almost nothing. They said that she would be moved to a dementia unit with four other people, and I didn't want that to happen to her.

Additionally, as her dementia got worse, she would get so many scam calls. She was savvy her whole life and worked as a lead for a law firm and a real estate agent, but it came to a point where I had to turn off her phone.

It was cheaper to take care of Mom at home

My partner and I decided that we could probably take care of her. It would be a lot cheaper. We started making the moves to bring her here so that I could take care of her. I brought my mom in to live by us in November.

There wasn't going to be room for her and my partner, so I had to give her a little model home in the same trailer park. Hers is about 700 square feet and is about a minute's walk from me. There are a lot of older people here, and the owner keeps a good eye on everyone. I knew that she wasn't going to be with me, but she needed care as if she were.

The trailer was in the low five figures, and we bought it using two-thirds of her savings and one-third of my savings. The rent for the space a little over $500 monthly. It's so much cheaper this way because my partner and I split the caregiving. Her utility bills run about $200 monthly in the winter and $70 in the summer. Caring for her started to become a little much for me, but because we're in the mountains, there aren't many home health organizations here, and none take her insurance.

She went into hospice care, and we hired someone to come for a few hours a week. It was supposed to be $37 for two hours, but when I got the bill, they tacked on mileage, so it became $92. We figured it wasn't worth it, so now hospice volunteers visit every now and then, and hospice covers medically necessary appointments. We know we're probably going to take care of her until she dies, unless she gets to a point where I can't take care of her.

It was a huge change in our lifestyle

We haven't been traveling since November, and I haven't been away from her for more than three hours at a time. My mom is deaf, and it would've been challenging to deal with that from afar.

My mom is somewhat independent still. She can dress herself and go about her day. I wake up every morning and make sure she's still in bed, then I turn on her coffee maker. I bring her breakfast over and leave notes about what she should do, like how to use the microwave. I check on her every half hour until she finally gets up. I come over before lunch to give her pills, eat lunch with her, and then sit with her until the afternoon, when she watches TV by herself. She can't cook dinner, so my partner cooks all her meals, and we bring them over.

The trailer has a bedroom at the back, then a small bathroom, kitchen, and living room. The rooms are big enough for her to guide her walker through, and because of how narrow it is, it lessens the fall risk. They had an old-fashioned bathtub that you had to step over to get in, but the woman who owns the trailer park hired a guy to lower the height. We also had to install railings on the porch. The kitchen has an electric stove, which is great because a gas stove isn't good when someone has dementia, because they can accidentally light a fire.

Tech has helped me take care of her remotely

One of the biggest nightmares is that people with dementia can't work the TV and telephone. She got to the point where she could barely use the remote, and she would start pushing buttons and would not stop.

I had come across JubileeTV, a TV system that lets you change channels remotely. The price wasn't prohibitive for us. The Jubilee remote replaced the Roku remote and came with a cover, so the buttons she can actually press are limited to volume and channels. If I'm out at the store, I can use the telescope function to see what she's done with the TV and get it back to what she wants to watch.

I often call her, so it comes up on the TV, and she uses closed captioning so she can read what I'm saying. The app has an automatic connect function because my mom wouldn't be able to answer a call or find the buttons to do so. The communication function also allows my sons to call her, and her hospice nurses can do the same.

I have used the app's drop-in function to look in and see if she's OK. I use that in conjunction with Blink cameras to make sure she doesn't fall. Those have been important because my mom has fallen a lot since she moved here. I probably check on her three or four times during the night and frequently during the day. One time, she put Dawn dishwashing soap in her glass of water because she wanted to add flavor, so I've had to stop her from doing unsafe things a few times.

I also have smart plugs from Alexa that let her control her radiator heater and other electronics. She has a cheap laptop that I put the Google Live Transcribe app on.

Tech has helped me in so many ways, and seeing her age at home has been somewhat stress-relieving.

• At 50, I retired from my job as a pharmacist in the US and moved to Ajijic, Mexico.
• To make this work, I did a lot of strategic planning and adjusting before and after the move.
• It has already paid off: I'm doing well, and I've planned for a sustainable early retirement abroad.

After turning 50, I retired from my job as a pharmacist and moved from San Francisco to Ajijic, Mexico.

On paper, I had done everything right: I did a ton of research, picked a beautiful lakeside town, and ran the numbers. I was confident I could make this new life work.

However, building a sustainable, enjoyable early retirement abroad takes more than just moving to a place with a lower cost of living.

After three years here, I believe I've finally done it.

First, I had to figure out what 'sustainable' actually means in practice

For me, a sustainable early retirement abroad means feeling at ease and living comfortably while staying prepared for the unexpected.

Since I chose to retire at 50, I wanted to make sure I could support myself for at least another 17 years, which is when I'll be eligible to receive full Social Security benefits.

When building a sustainable financial system, I kept in mind my desired lifestyle, second-career goals, fixed-income investments, and long-term legacy.

For example, I wanted to be able to visit my family back in San Francisco regularly and finally pursue writing as a career — something I'd wanted since grade school — without an immediate need for income.

So, I prioritized growing my high-yield savings accounts and investing in CDs, short-term bond funds, and money market funds to cover living expenses.

I also hired a financial advisor to diversify the rest of my portfolio for growth and stability, so I could focus on creative work rather than market swings after I moved.

I knew I needed to create a budget to help keep my yearly spending steady, so I began tracking how much I would need for essentials while still having extra money for travel, enrichment, and emergencies.

The first year of my move consisted of a lot of preparing, testing, and exploring

After the initial culture shock, I spent my first year in Ajijic learning my way around the town, getting accustomed to Mexican culture, and gradually falling into step with the local rhythm.

I explored different ways to manage cash flow between my US and Mexican bank accounts and learned I liked using the service Wise for low-fee currency conversions.

Through online searches and conversations with locals and expats, I curated a "money‑smart" list of the best-priced grocery stores, reliable handymen, and trusted doctors, so future surprise expenses could be less likely to blow up my budget.

I tracked all my spending in a spreadsheet, breaking it down by category so I knew exactly where my money was going. This helped me plan for the next year.

After a few months of renting, I also bought a house that's become both a comfortable home and a long‑term investment. Owning a home helped anchor me in the community and turn my housing expenses into an asset.

In my second and third years abroad, I did more strategic planning and refining

In year two, I worked closely with my financial advisor to better reshape my portfolio around my early retirement needs and set up an accessible emergency fund.

I got in the habit of using Wise to track the dollar-to-peso exchange rate and batch-converting money whenever it was favorable.

Plus, I took a closer look at my healthcare plans. Because of my good health, I chose to pay out of pocket for doctor's visits rather than buy health insurance in Mexico. This lowered my expenses and also made it easy to put off routine checkups.

Even though I felt fine, I knew I needed to stay on top of preventive care to protect my long-term health, so I also scheduled an annual lab panel, vision exam, and routine teeth cleaning. They all cost me less than what I'd spend on similar services in the US. I made plans to repeat this annually so small problems wouldn't snowball.

In year three, I set up many unsexy but critical documents, including wills, beneficiary designations, and a cross-border estate plan.

I also created an emergency plan in case of a health crisis, which included which hospital I'd like to use, how I would pay, and who to call if something went wrong.

And, after two years of collecting my Ajijic spending data, I finally had the experience and confidence to lock in my budget and begin living by it.

All in all, I've found that sustainability is a gateway to opportunities

I feel I've made the right choice by retiring early in Mexico and giving myself the chance to lead a new life on my own terms.

In three years, though, all my planning, saving, investing, and strategizing have begun to pay off: I've had more mental space for writing and other creative work that energizes me.

My writing career is already taking shape. I recently won ThrillerFest's 2026 Undiscovered New Voices scholarship and will soon pitch my latest psychological thriller to industry professionals.

Sure, this is a simplified overview — building a retirement abroad also involves navigating visas and so many other logistics.

It takes time to build a system that can hold up for decades, but I already feel confident I can maintain my current lifestyle for many years to come.

• Harry and Susan Jones own Bridge Avenue Berries, a blueberry farm in Allenwood, Pennsylvania.
• The farm became USDA organic certified in 2021, boosting customer traffic and interest.
• If they had bought the farm 30 years ago, they would have likely grown a more diverse set of crops.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Harry Jones, 63, who owns and runs Bridge Avenue Berries with his wife, Susan, in Allenwood, Pennsylvania. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Since I was a kid, I'd always wanted to run my own business, but it never quite came together. I tried starting a small tree nursery business, but we couldn't compete with the big nurseries and had to close it.

Then, a blueberry farm that my wife and I had been picking berries at for years went up for sale. When I first mentioned buying it, she said, "Absolutely not."

A few months later, we were there picking blueberries, and the farm still hadn't sold. We started talking with the owner and purchased it in March 2018.

We didn't have much time to figure it out. Blueberry season starts in early July, and we had about four months to get ready.

That first summer, it felt like we were drinking from a fire hose. We were learning everything at once — pests, soil, customers — mostly the hard way.

I wasn't starting from scratch, but owning a farm still surprised me

My background is in horticulture. I have an associate degree in nursery management, and I spent years designing landscapes. So, I've been around plants most of my life.

Still, running a blueberry farm is a different kind of challenge.

We have about 7 acres of blueberries — roughly 3,800 plants — and we harvest around 18,000 pounds a year.

The catch is that it all happens in about a 30-day window in July. That month is intense, but the work doesn't end with the season. The rest of the year is spent on preparing for the next one.

I've kept my full-time job in the lumber industry through all of this. We tend to call the farm my self-supporting hobby, but the truth is, even a small farm like ours struggles to make a dollar.

By the time you pay for inputs, repairs, improvements, and all the other costs that come with a small business, there's not much left.

If I were younger, I'd do it differently

At this stage of life, I think differently about what the farm should be. If I were 25 or 30 years younger, I wouldn't run it the way I do now.

Right now, we're heavily focused on one crop. If I were starting earlier, I'd cut the number of blueberry bushes down — maybe from 3,800 to about 2,000 — and use the rest of the land for other crops. Strawberries, raspberries, pumpkins — something to stretch income across more of the year.

That's the biggest challenge with what we do. When you rely on a single crop and a short season, it's hard to build a stable living.

We've found ways to spread out the income a bit. We freeze blueberries — about 1,900 pounds a year — and sell them through the winter at local markets and to restaurants.

Becoming USDA-certified organic was a game changer

We started farming organically from day one in 2018, but it took time to make it official. To become USDA certified organic, we had to go through a required three-year transition period — documenting everything we did, from fertilizers to pest control, and proving we were following the standards.

We finally got certified in spring 2021, and once we could call our berries "USDA organic," we saw more customers, more traffic, and even people driving an hour or more to pick our fruit.

But over time, the downsides started to add up. The certification cost us about $1,400 a year — a big expense for a small farm — and required inspections and paperwork during our busiest season. More importantly, I grew frustrated with what I saw as inconsistencies in the system.

In early 2024, we gave up our USDA certification and switched to Certified Naturally Grown, a smaller, farmer-led program. It costs about $350 a year and still holds us accountable to the National Organic Program Standards, but in a way that is more transparent and aligned with how we actually farm.

We know we won't do this forever

Realistically, we'll probably run the farm for another three to five years and then look to sell it, so that we can have more freedom to travel and visit our three kids and nine grandchildren.

I think about what a younger person could do with this place. It's a productive farm with a lot of potential. Someone with more time and energy could take it further than we have.

Even knowing what I know now, I'd still buy the farm.

We're happy with what we've built. It gave me a chance to finally run my own business and to work with something I've always loved — plants. And it's been meaningful to us to see people come here, enjoy the farm, and tell us how much they like it.

• Scott Scovel moved to Miami in his 50s, hoping to benefit from lower taxes and cheaper living costs.
• But those costs didn't make as much of a difference as he anticipated, especially after he retired.
• The biggest benefit of Miami was unexpected — he bought a much cheaper home and retired early.

In 2021, at age 58, I followed one of the hottest relocation trends in the US: I moved from New York to Florida.

I'd accepted a new job in Miami that I intended to be my last, and wanted to see what it would be like to retire in Florida. I was drawn by Miami's warm winters, lower taxes, and supposedly cheaper living, but I also loved New York, so I was torn about where I'd have a better retirement.

Now that I'm here, I love Miami's glorious weather and cultural diversity, but I've only found modest benefits from Florida's lower taxes and living costs when compared to my life in New York.

Miami hasn't met all my expectations, but it surprised me in one very important way, and I'm glad I moved here.

Housing costs were dramatically cheaper in Miami, but they're on the rise

During my first few weeks in Miami, I was lured in by the bike rides I could take through lush parks and along glistening blue waters. In the neighborhood of Brickell, I could enjoy a pedestrian lifestyle similar to Manhattan's. By my sixth month, I was ready to commit to living here permanently, so I called a realtor.

I bought a two-bedroom condo in cash for $727,500, using the money from the $1.65 million sale of my two-bedroom Manhattan condo in 2019. With no mortgage, my monthly expenses fell significantly. I suddenly realized I could afford to retire years earlier than I expected, relying on my savings, so I left full-time work in 2022 at age 60.

I was lucky because I took Manhattan money with me to Miami, after nearly 40 years of working in the financial services industry. For other Americans moving from lower-income areas, the "Miami dream" may not be as affordable. House prices in Florida aren't what they used to be: evidence shows Miami condos cost over twice as much as they did 10 years ago.

Lower taxes and living costs didn't make as much difference as I expected

When I received my first paycheck in Florida, I rejoiced because there's no personal state income tax here. New York State and City taxes cost me nearly $40,000 some years.

Now that I no longer have an income from a job, I'm not benefiting in the same way. Lower taxes initially drew me to Miami, but I hadn't properly considered that this factor would lose significance when my income fell in retirement.

I also assumed everything would be more expensive in NYC than Miami, but I've been struck by how comparable many costs are. I still buy clothes from online retailers and household goods from Amazon, meaning the prices don't fluctuate significantly based on where I am.

My weekly grocery bill is perhaps a little cheaper in Miami, but some things were unexpectedly cheaper in New York, most notably transportation, as the subway system beats having to own a car or pay for Ubers to get around parts of Miami.

Miami has great weather, but it can't beat New York's cultural abundance

I absolutely love the Florida weather. I grew up with four-month winters in Minnesota, and during my first year in Miami, I'd brag to friends up north that I now wear shorts 360 out of 365 days. I worried that the summer heat would get oppressive, but it actually hasn't been that bad. I wake up at dawn to exercise, avoid the midday sun, and reappear outdoors in the cooler evenings.

I like that Miami has a diverse population and is a major hub for Latin American and Caribbean cultures. However, I sometimes miss the broader global culture in New York, where I could effortlessly eat great Thai food just blocks from home, take in an African art exhibit at the Met, or attend a European film festival. Miami can be proud of its restaurant and cultural scene, but almost no city can compare to New York's abundance.

I was shocked housing in Miami was so much cheaper than New York

Though I came to Miami expecting to make significant tax savings and benefit from lower day-to-day expenses, I've found that my retirement living costs are pretty similar to what they would've been in New York.

The biggest benefit, however, was unexpected. I was shocked to learn that Miami housing could be so much cheaper than New York. I bought a comparable condo for less than half the cost of my Manhattan home, which eliminated my need for a mortgage and enabled me to retire early. For that, I'm extremely grateful to Miami.

Retiring early means I'm young enough to fully enjoy my golden years. I bask in the Miami sunshine on walks and bike rides, travel extensively to other countries, and have time to pursue all sorts of hobbies, from improv classes to museum trips.

One of the most enduring myths about Florida's history is that European explorer Ponce de León came here in search of the fountain of youth in the 1500s. I'd like to think I've found my own fountain of youth by retiring early in Miami — something that means more to me than a lower tax rate.

Do you have a story to share about moving to Miami? Contact the editor, Charissa Cheong, at ccheong@businessinsider.com

• Jay Zigmont has been married for 17 years and has no kids.
• He rents his home because he and his wife move frequently.
• He's unlikely to retire fully, but likes a more fluid approach to work.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jay Zigmont, founder of Childfree Wealth and Childfree Trust. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I wear a shirt when I want to start conversations. It says, "Proudly childfree and wealthy."

At financial conferences, it stops people in their tracks and gives me an opportunity to talk about my work helping childfree people make estate plans that match their lives.

My wife, Vicki, and I have been married for nearly 17 years. Because of a health condition she has, we always knew we wouldn't have kids. It's shaped everything about how we approach life, including our ideas about our careers, finances, retirement, and even home ownership.

Vicki is Catholic, and wanted to get married in the Catholic Church, but they wouldn't marry us if we didn't plan to have children. We asked three different churches, and all had the same answer. We got married at my Methodist church, and that was the first time we realized how much being childfree would impact all areas of our lives.

I'd like to die with very little money, not acquire more wealth

I'm 48, but in my late 30s, I had achieved my career and financial goals. I had $1 million in the bank and no debt, but I didn't know where to go from there.

As a childfree person, there's a point when you can have too much wealth. I'm not trying to build generational wealth — in fact, I'd like to die with very little money. That means my career isn't driven by financial gain. I focus on purpose, not profit.

Whatever Vicki and I have when we die will be left to our nephews, but I hope it's not much. Instead of leaving them a large sum later in life, we're supporting them when they need it most. We contribute to their college funds, and I would be happy to consider investing in their businesses or helping them buy a house. We also give generously to charities — my personal favorite is a charity that buys and forgives medical debt.

I likely won't ever retire fully

I plan to always work in some way. Instead of focusing on early retirement, I follow a FILE approach: "financial independence, live early." I want to work on projects I enjoy, but do so on my own time, from anywhere.

When you don't have kids, you have to reimagine the typical idea of success and what life can look like. That can take months, because you're untangling a lifetime of messaging, to figure out what you truly want.

I encourage people to think about this by writing their obituary. Mine would say something like "loving husband, world traveler, author, and innovator." Those are the things I want to focus on — not building wealth for wealth's sake. A few years ago, I tried my hand at maple syrup farming just because it sounded enjoyable.

My legacy will be helping other childfree people

Vicki and I rent our home, and although we've owned in the past, I don't think we ever will again. We move often, every two to three years, since we're not tied to a specific school system or living near family to help watch the kids. Renting saves us money, and I think it's usually the right move for most childfree people.

Recently, Tennessee, where I live, passed a bill requiring students to learn about the "success sequence": graduating, getting a job, getting married, and having kids. We're taught so much about that one path to success, but there are more options.

My legacy won't be children, but rather helping other childfree people find the success sequence that's right for them.

• Monica Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, retired at 53.
• Nassif said scaling struggles pushed her to sell her brands to SC Johnson in 2008.
• "It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can," Nassif said.

For some founders, selling their company to an internationally recognized corporation like SC Johnson is a cause for unbridled celebration. For Monica Nassif, it was more complicated.

"It's really bittersweet," Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, told Business Insider. "I had to sell my mother."

Nassif's 93-year-old mother is the inspiration behind the household cleaning products. Thelma Meyers, an avid gardener, raised Nassif and her eight siblings as a homemaker in Iowa. The items she grew in the family's backyard — basil, lavender, lemon — were the basis for the Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day product scents.

"At one time, we had this trailer that was designed like her kitchen," Nassif said, referring to Thelma. "We used to take it to music events or places like the Embarcadero in San Francisco. People stood in line for that. They'd get samples, and she'd sign their bottles."

Nassif launched Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day and an upscale version, Caldrea, in 1999. By the mid-2000s, Nassif's brands were becoming part of people's daily lives. Caldrea, a premium essential oil-infused household cleaning brand, was sold at upscale grocery and specialty gift stores. Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day gained a foothold in mass-market retailers like Whole Foods, pushing the company to new heights.

So, when SC Johnson acquired the brands for an undisclosed amount in 2008, Nassif said the decision didn't come lightly. However, a phone call she had avoided for weeks changed everything.

Going international

In the early days, Nassif would often market her products at trade shows, where investors could be found searching for their next moneymaker. Among the curious crowd was SC Johnson, which owns popular brands like Windex, Drano, Ziploc, Scrubbing Bubbles, and Fantastik.

"A whole team from SC Johnson shows up during one of our first trade shows with Caldrea. We're probably maybe a year old, and our booth is so tiny," Nassif said. "I was trying to sell my product and needed to open wholesale accounts, so I asked them politely to leave, but I knew why they were interested. I'm sure we were very fascinating to them."

Nassif said she ignored "countless private equity and venture capital guys" for years as her brands grew.

"I always asked all these potential investors one question: "What can you do for us that we can't do for ourselves?" Nassif said. "We were great at marketing, and pretty good at sales."

Other areas, though, were less successful.

"Distribution and scaling rapidly, not so great," Nassif said. Still, Nassif kept her head down and pushed forward until she got a call from SC Johnson.

"I refused that call for weeks. I didn't even know who it was," Nassif said. "But it gets to a point where you go, 'I want this to be bigger. This is a great brand. It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can.'"

She added: "We neither had that skillset nor the capital to figure it out."

Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day is now sold in major retailers across the United States, Canada, and Singapore. Both brands have products available through online retailers like Amazon.

Failed retirement

Nassif retired from the company in 2010. She was 53. Her days out of the office didn't stick, though.

"I failed retirement," Nassif said. "I liked working. I liked creative projects. I liked being involved in startups. They have incredible energy, and it really keeps you alert and aware of what's happening."

Most recently, Nassif wrote a part-memoir, part-business guide titled "I Bottled My Mother," which hits shelves on March 24.

"I speak to entrepreneurs and the questions are always the same," Nassif said. "'How do you do it? Where do you get your ideas? What should I do first?' I thought it'd be fun to do a startup manual. Hey, if you're thinking about starting a business, here's how to go about it."

She also wanted to honor her mother.

"It's really a childhood memoir about how the Mrs. Meyer's brand came into being," she said.