We are halfway between Menorca and Sardinia, a hundred miles from each shore, floating in the heart of the Mediterranean. Today was a restless day, desert-like waves, rolling unpredictably under us, bringing seasickness and even a few moments of real discomfort, especially for our little Philou. She was brave, but couldn’t escape the queasiness and the need to be sick a few times.

But as the evening falls, so does the calm. The waves soften just a little. The wind, though still strong enough to keep our speed high, becomes gentler. And with the setting sun, the magic begins.

The sky bursts into a thousand colors, a living rainbow melting into the horizon. Philou is allowed to stay up late, a rare and wondrous thing in her world. After the day she has had, she could use a little magic. And children are such masters of the moment, for her, the hardships are already forgotten. There is only now. This moment. The freedom to choose when to sleep.

Within minutes, she is fast asleep in the cockpit, snuggled under her colorful rainbow blanket, her face completely at peace. Edwin heads inside to get some rest, and my watch begins. Three hours of quiet presence, under a sky slowly filling with stars.

The wind carries us steadily forward. Around us, the world glows for a few last moments before the darkness takes over. The stars pierce the night, scattered across the heavens in dazzling clarity.

Tonight, as I sit here, I think of fathers. My own father, today is his birthday. I think of Janneke’s father, too, my dearest friend, who heard difficult news today. And I think of Edwin, who carries Philou with so much tenderness, guiding her through even the hardest days.

This night, this moment, is for them. For the fathers who guide with steady hands and soft hearts, in a world often whipped up by curling mothers and crashing waves. For the ones who are rocks, who offer shelter and direction, even in the fiercest storms.

Tonight, the sea, the stars, and the setting sun whisper their magic for you. For all the fathers