December 26, 2025

Why I Chose Onna-son: My Second Life at 53

by Ayako | Real Estate & Lifestyle Strategist

They say life begins at 40. But I am here to tell you that the real adventure might just begin at 53.

If you have been following my journey here on Aya’s Move Japan Guide, you know that I have spent the last 20 years running an English school in the snowy city of Niigata. I raised two sons, managed employees, and built a life that was stable, busy, and full of responsibility.

But recently, I made a decision that shocked a few people.

I decided to leave everything I know behind and move to a tropical village in Okinawa called Onna-son.

I am not doing this because I am retiring in the traditional sense. In fact, I am doing this because I am ready to finally live for myself.

For many of you reading this—perhaps you are in your 40s, 50s, or 60s—you might be feeling the same way. You might be looking at Japan not just as a travel destination, but as a place to reinvent yourself.

Today, I want to share the deeply personal and spiritual reasons why I chose Okinawa for this next chapter. It wasn’t just about the beautiful beaches (though they are amazing). It was about family, loss, and a series of mysterious coincidences that told me: “It’s time to go.”

The Connection to My Father

My story with Okinawa actually began when I was in my 20s.

Back then, my father ran a hotel on Sado Island, off the coast of Niigata. He was a businessman through and through. We took a family trip to Okinawa—my father, my older sister, and me—but being my father, it was really a business trip to visit vendors and partners.

Even so, we managed to sneak in a little bit of sightseeing between meetings.

When I look back on that trip now, I don’t remember the business meetings. I remember the smiles. I remember the warmth of the air and the way my family looked when we were there.

My father passed away at the age of 77.

Before he died, he made a specific request. He didn’t want a traditional grave in the cold ground of the north. He told us:

“Scatter my ashes in the sea at Manza Beach, in Onna-son.”

Because of the pandemic, we couldn’t fulfill his wish immediately. But the following year, we finally made the trip. My sister’s family, my half-sister’s family, my stepmother, and I all gathered in Onna-son.

We scattered his ashes into that brilliant blue water. We also scattered the ashes of my half-brother, who had tragically passed away at only 17 years old.

Since that day, Okinawa stopped being just a “vacation spot” for me. It became a place where my family rests. It became a place I would go whenever I felt lost or drained, to get power from the ocean and from them.

The Loss That Changed Everything

We often talk about “moving to Japan” in terms of visas and paperwork. But usually, there is an emotional trigger that pushes us to make the leap.

For me, the final push wasn’t a happy one. It was heartbreak.

I recently lost my beloved dog. He was 17 years old.

If you have ever loved and lost an animal, you understand the pain I am talking about. For one month before he passed, I was his full-time caregiver. I was already in a state of “pet loss” grieving before he was even gone. I cried every single day.

This dog wasn’t just a pet. I welcomed him into my life 17 years ago, during one of the hardest periods of my life. He was my partner. He saw me through the struggles of running a business and raising children.

He gave me unconditional love.

In my 53 years of life, the two beings who loved me the most—purely and unconditionally—were my father and this dog.

And now, they were both gone.

Admittedly, it sounds strange to say, but when my dog passed, something shifted inside me. The sadness was overwhelming, but underneath it, I realized something:

I have nothing left to be afraid of.

My sons are grown up. They will essentially be independent soon. (And as a parent, we assume our children will outlive us—that is the natural order). But the two souls who needed me the most, and who anchored me to my current life, were gone.

I felt a sudden, terrifying, and exhilarating freedom.

Staying in Niigata was no longer a requirement. The snow didn’t have to be my permanent view anymore. Instead, I could go to where my father and my brother are—the place that truly heals me.

Serendipity on My 53rd Birthday

In December 2025, just recently, I spent my 53rd birthday in Okinawa.

I was feeling lost. When you have spent 20 years running a company and pouring your energy into others, it is scary to stop. I felt like I was in a dark tunnel, unable to see the light ahead.

But Okinawa has a way of surprising you.

I went to a charcoal grilling restaurant for dinner. It was a casual place, but I started chatting with the family sitting next to me.

It turned out they were successful business owners running multiple companies. We connected instantly. It wasn’t just polite small talk; it felt like we were meant to meet.

They told me, “You should go see this person in Nanjo City. A fortune teller who uses power stones. They are very accurate.”

Now, I am a practical businesswoman. I rely on data and plans. But I am also Japanese, and we believe heavily in En (縁) — fate, or connection.

So,I went to Nanjo City. I met the person they recommended.

I won’t share every detail of that session, but I will tell you this: It felt like the clouds parted. For the first time in months, since the grief of losing my dog took over, I felt like I could see the sun again.

Was it a coincidence? Was it my father guiding me?

I don’t know. But I decided to stop questioning it and start trusting it.

Why Your 50s Are the Time to Reset

I know many of you reading this blog are in your 40s, 50s, or 60s. You might be thinking:

“Is it too late to move to Japan?”
“Is it too late to learn a new language?”
“Shouldn’t I just stay comfortable?”

I have run my company for 20 years. I ran at full speed for my sons. I ran for my employees.

But as I approach 2026, I want to clean the slate. I want to settle the past and start fresh.

53 is not the end. 53 is just the beginning.

If you are hesitating about making a big move—whether it is to Japan or just a new lifestyle—I want to encourage you.

When we are young, we move for jobs or for romance. When we are older, we move for our souls. We move because we know ourselves better. We know what we need to be happy.

For me, that is Onna-son.

Why Onna-son?

So, why specifically this village? If you are considering Okinawa for your own relocation, here is why Onna-son appeals to me (and might appeal to you):

The Connection: As I mentioned, my father and brother are part of the ocean here. I feel watched over.
The Community: Unlike the busy city of Naha, Onna-son has a mix of local culture and resort infrastructure. It is quieter, but not isolated.
The Healing: The rhythm of life here is slower. After 20 years of the high-stress education business, I need the “Okinawa Time.”

Looking Ahead to 2027

Finding Your Own Version of “Onna-son”

While Onna-son is my personal sanctuary, I know that your perfect paradise might look different.

Maybe you crave the energetic, American-style convenience of Chatan. Maybe you prefer the historic, spiritual calm of Nanjo, or the urban accessibility of Naha.

My goal isn’t to make you live where I live. My goal is to use my local knowledge to help you find the place that speaks to your soul.

Onna-son is my starting point, but my expertise covers the entire island. I am here to guide you to whichever part of Okinawa calls your name.

My plan is to fully relocate by 2027.

I am currently preparing my business, my home, and my mindset for this transition. I am studying for my Japanese Real Estate License (Takken) so that when I arrive, I can help people like you find your own piece of paradise in Okinawa.

I want to use my 20 years of business experience to make sure you don’t face the same struggles I did. I want to be the bridge for foreigners who want to live this beautiful, slower life in Japan.

You Are Not Alone

If you have experienced loss, or if you are feeling “stuck” in your 50s, please know that you are not alone.

It is okay to be sad. It is okay to grieve. But it is also okay to let that grief push you toward a new door.

My dog and my father taught me how to love. Now, they are teaching me how to live fearlessly.

I hope you will follow along on this journey. I will be sharing the practical steps of my move—finding a house, moving my business, and navigating the logistics—right here on the blog.

Life is short. Let’s make the second half the best half.