Growing up the nomadic way

Two years ago on a warm sunny after-noon, our second son was born after an extremely short labour at home in our Sydney backyard. Three months later we left Australia. The next few months we spent in a campervan, travelling Europe from port to port looking for a blue water cruiser. When we stopped for six months in Southampton, UK, to top up the kitty over winter, he learnt to walk. Just after his first birthday, we moved on board our Moody 425, Happy Dancer which has been home ever since. At now two years of age, Gaelito, as the diminutive Spanish version he’s most often called, has visited ten countries, climbed more booms than the average twenty year old and already posses an absolutely impressive repertoire in three languages.

Siesta time in Hammoc

It’s been such a joy to watch you grow, my little angel! Kids add that extra dimension to boat life. And no, I don’t think i’ts irresponsible to share our dream with them, show them what the world can offer and teach them that dreams are not only there for dreaming. I look forward to many more moments of watching you grow up in amazement. In indescribable gratitude, humbleness and honour for being able to guide you as your mother through these early years of your life! And what a life it’s been so far. Happy Birthday!

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8 thoughts on “Growing up the nomadic way”

  1. Happy Birthday Gaelito, I’m so happy to see you living your dream life Dini, I looking forward to the day you sailing back into our shores some day.

  2. Hallo Gael,

    Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag und alles Liebe von uns allen.
    Feier ganz toll mit allem was dazu gehört.
    Gruß und Kuss von Deiner Großtante Ute

  3. Having met you all this weekend it was so wonderful to see an amazing relaxed family who enjoy being together. Your children are beautiful, rounded and sociable and it was an absolute pleasure to me you.

    You may enjoy this which is one of my favourite passages…

    On Children
    Kahlil Gibran

    Your children are not your children.
    They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
    They come through you but not from you,
    And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

    You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
    For they have their own thoughts.
    You may house their bodies but not their souls,
    For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
    which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
    You may strive to be like them,
    but seek not to make them like you.
    For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

    You are the bows from which your children
    as living arrows are sent forth.
    The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
    and He bends you with His might
    that His arrows may go swift and far.
    Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
    For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
    so He loves also the bow that is stable.

    1. Mark, it was awesome to meet the man behind the nude sailing blog (lol)! Can’t wait till the winds blow our two bows closer again. And thanks for sharing the poem – beyond love it! Much love across the Malta Channel! x

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