The discussion of where to take a winter escape lasted for months… so long we ended up going in the spring! We searched for warmth, stillness, a place that felt far enough to change the air around us.

Taylor showed Jodi a photo of Little Corn Island and with three flights, a speedboat, and not a car in sight. It sounded like an adventure. It sounded like fun.

We began on the Pacific Coast, in San Juan del Sur – a surf town woven through Taylor’s stories from years before when he visited with his friend, Nolan. It was all there: the soft chaos, the long sunsets, the rhythm of waves against the tin roofs. Seeing it together felt like closing a loop.

Then came Little Corn, small enough we walked it end to end, quiet enough to hear your own heartbeat. During a still afternoon, on the private beach of our Casa Flip Flop, with the tide moving in slow and the air turning gold, Taylor knelt in the sand and asked the question that had already found its answer.

The days that followed moved in their own rhythm – slow, golden, and full. We lived inside a quiet kind of joy, the world narrowed to ocean, sunlight and us. Mornings were for diving with eagle rays, chasing the flicker of a hammerhead in the deep. Nights were barefoot walks, blue crabs in the full moonlight, and dinner by flashlight.

It felt like our own little love bubble – and maybe, just one day, we’ll be back.