Sitting at the airport very early in the morning, somewhere between my old world and the life we live now, I realised again just how extraordinary this journey really is.

For the past three days, I stepped back into my former professional life. Back into familiar halls, familiar conversations, familiar faces. I saw people I have worked with for years, some for more than two decades. People who once formed such a big part of my daily rhythm. And honestly, it felt incredibly special.

But what made it even more special was knowing that I was only visiting for a moment.

Because afterwards, I get to step back into the life we have created aboard Simon Hendrick.

That contrast is difficult to explain sometimes. One moment you are surrounded by the intensity, structure and pace of the professional world you once knew so well. The next, you are flying home to your floating home, to your family, to the sea, to simplicity.

And somehow, both worlds still belong to me.

What touched me most these past days was the genuine curiosity of people. So many had followed our journey from a distance. They wanted to know how we are doing, where we are heading, what life aboard really feels like. Some told me they felt inspired. Others admitted it was something they secretly dream about themselves, but would never dare to do.

And that is humbling.

Because the truth is, we do not have all the answers either.

We are simply following a path that feels right for us.

I know there are people who probably think we are slightly mad for living this way. Leaving stability behind. Choosing uncertainty. Raising Philou on a boat instead of within the safety of a more traditional life.

But I also believe deeply that every person is allowed to walk their own path.

Some paths are built around security. Others around adventure. Some around routine. Others around freedom. None are more right than the other. They are simply different expressions of what feels true to someone’s heart.

And strangely enough, although our future is still wide open, it does not feel uncertain to me anymore.

People kept asking about the next steps. Where are you going after this? What is the long term plan?

Of course we have ideas. Dreams. Possibilities.

But we also leave space for life itself to guide us.

That might sound vague to some people, yet for us it feels incredibly peaceful. Once you start trusting that the right things will unfold at the right moment, uncertainty loses much of its fear.

That does not mean there are no difficult questions.

People asked about Philou too, and rightly so. About school, about stability, about whether this life is sustainable long term. Not from judgement, but from sincere curiosity.

And honestly, I understand those questions completely.

Yes, we take risks in certain ways. But at the same time, we are giving her something else in return. A childhood close to nature. Close to us. A life filled with experiences, cultures, freedom and presence. We are together every single day, and that feels incredibly valuable.

What I also loved was realising that these two worlds do not have to cancel each other out.

I had secretly found the combination a little intimidating beforehand. Returning temporarily to my old professional environment after living so differently for so long. But from the very first moment, it felt warm and familiar. Like returning to a kind of business family.

And maybe that is the beauty of it all.

You do not always have to choose only one identity.

You are allowed to evolve without completely disconnecting from who you once were.

So now, somewhere in the middle of the night, I am travelling back home again. Back to Phi, to Edwin, to our boat, to the sea.

And if all goes well, by this afternoon we will already be sailing again, towards another tiny island just North of Kos. Towards another chapter we cannot fully predict yet.

And honestly?

I quite like it that way.

Sometimes the most beautiful destinations are the ones you never fully planned for.