We’d always dreamt of owning a beach home for family vacations and weekend getaways, but our budget and the kids’ constantly packed schedules never made it possible.

Then, many years later, as we edged toward retirement and the kids were out of the house, we put the idea back on the table and bought a lovely home in Delaware just a 10 to 20-minute drive from a string of pristine beaches.

The house is in a newly built development dotted with duck-filled ponds and a quick drive to the heart of a quaint historic village filled with restaurants, live music venues, and a sprinkling of art galleries.

My husband spends hours casting off the coastline for striped bass and bluefish, and our neighbors, many newly retired like us, are welcoming and down-to-earth.

Moving here is one of the best decisions we’ve ever made, but three years in, we’re planning our exit.

We moved from New Jersey

Before Delaware, we’d lived in the same house in the same suburban New Jersey town for more than 15 years.

However, during that time, we’d always felt on the periphery of the social scene, rarely got dinner invites, and found it difficult to make friends.

We both had good jobs and lived a middle-class life, but our roots were blue-collar. My husband was the only person we knew in the area who had not graduated from college.

We longed for a change, a fuller calendar, and a respite from nagging loneliness.

We weren’t the beach lovers we thought we were

Delaware’s dramatically lower property taxes and more affordable real estate meant less strain on our budget.

We also purchased a newer home, which meant spending less time and money on the endless repairs our 94-year-old colonial in NJ demanded.

Despite the benefits, homesickness has been impossible to shake.

We miss living a short 20 to 30-minute drive from our family who are still in Jersey. And while the small village we live near is nice, it’s just that — small.

We prefer being closer to the hustle and bustle of New York City with its diverse neighborhoods, major museums, and vibrant theater and music scenes, all of which we frequented often while in New Jersey.

We’ve also realized we weren’t the beach lovers we thought we were. Going to the beach had once been a treat. Now, we easily take it for granted, which makes it less special.

Plus, traffic jams and packed beaches in season make getting there a headache and a sweaty nailbiter, with parking lots at capacity by 8:30 a.m.

The noise, the grind of cars, and the lines snaking out of seemingly every coffee bar and lunch spot conspire to make a summer day about as relaxing as a full-throttle city commute.

We also miss our hikes through the small mountain range that was minutes away from our NJ house. The flat, bleached terrain without a hill in sight just isn’t the same.

To get that outdoorsy experience now, we must drive 90 minutes north, on a dismal, nerve-jangling highway.

We feel like part of a community here, which has been the greatest gift

Welcome mats for pickleball teams, girls’ nights, potlucks, and a dizzying number of groups and clubs have made it easy to build friendships both casual and close.

Unfortunately, we are too homesick for the area we left to feel truly relaxed. It is as if we are at a terrific party — great to be invited, but not to stay indefinitely.

The gift of these friendships has given us a sense of belonging that had always been just out of reach in our old neighborhood, and, importantly, a social confidence and insight that will help us choose our next community wisely.

Our turnabout has surprised us, but aging has brought into focus how we want to spend our time, and where. And that’s nearer to the convenience and culture of a major city, steeped in a diverse community, surrounded by varied terrain, and closer to family.

We have learned that retirement decisions can’t always be about money. Sometimes they need to be driven by what enriches the soul.