Here in Greece, it’s autumn too. Even though both the sea and air are still around 22 degrees – soon to drop a little – the weather feels less stable, more changeable. When the sun shines, we soak it in, still living mostly outdoors. When it rains, we make things cosy inside. Around six it’s already dark, so our evenings unfold in the warm glow of our boat, which feels wonderfully snug this time of year.

There’s a gentle pull to slow down. We’re no longer planning long routes, choosing instead to stay close to Poros, where we’ll soon head to truly unwind. There’s space to slow down, yet somehow it still feels busy. Work and school fill our days, and in between there’s always something – reading a book, playing a game, doing small chores. Still, I notice that slowing down doesn’t come easily. There’s a restlessness I can’t quite name. Maybe it’s because Edwin will go to the Netherlands for a few days on Saturday. I love being with Philou, yet it also means being constantly switched on.

And quietly, thoughts about the future creep in. We don’t want to plan too far ahead, but the question what’s next? lingers, born not from worry, but from curiosity. That, too, makes it hard to truly pause. To slow down, I need to quiet my mind, and that doesn’t come naturally. As a woman and mother, the inner wheels keep turning. It’s never completely still. Maybe only for a brief moment of meditation.

Do you recognise that feeling? Knowing something needs to shift, but not yet finding the right way to do it. I long to slow down, to enjoy simply doing nothing and I wonder if I truly can.

Sometimes the hardest thing is to do nothing at all and trust that it’s enough.

Written by: Mirjam