I’ve often thought this is the best year of my life, but the other day it hit me: this might be the best year I will ever live. I cannot imagine anything feeling better than it does right now. We have our health, our kids still under our roof, and here we are, on the grandest adventure in the most beautiful setting we could have imagined. I cannot believe this is our life. I want to freeze every moment. It feels like we arrived in Grenada yesterday, yet it is already mid-October - time to start sailing up the island chain. We are so ready, but Grenada will always hold a special place in our hearts. This is where we learned to live our dreams.
This summer, we have learned to trim sails, catch mooring balls, interpret weather models, troubleshoot diesel engines, understand electrical systems, manage our power grid, and make water. We figured out banking, importing, and grocery shopping in a new country; navigated changes to Starlink and phone coverage; managed our jobs; and homeschooled our kids. Along the way, we have learned to share a very small space, be together around the clock, and work together beautifully. We have examined our values as individuals and as a family, and spent a great deal of time discussing them and checking in on how we live them out each day.
Our Grenadian neighborhood is a collection of boats filled with families from all over the world, whom we have known for months but feel we have known for years. The “Woburn Moms” and “Grand Anse Kidzilla” crew have helped me find my footing as a boat mom, wife, and co-captain, while leaving room to grow as myself. After a day of remote work, homeschooling, or boat projects, we jump off our bows and swim to a friend’s floating dock. We meet to snorkel, take the kids tubing, share a potluck, or gather around a beach bonfire. We have wake-boarded, wing-foiled, kayaked, and paddle-boarded through these bays. The magic of this everyday life is seared into my heart.
We have snorkeled and scuba-dived. I have always loved warm water, but this summer I fell in love with the world beneath the surface. Underwater, I feel both very small and deeply responsible. A current or an encounter with sea life reminds me how vulnerable I am. Seeing what we leave behind, including so many dead corals, reminds me of our impact. One afternoon, we tried to free a fish with a plastic soda ring around its neck, but sadly, we never managed to. On windward shores, we found hundreds of plastic bottles washed ashore. Seeing these consequences reminds me how much my everyday choices matter.
We have also treasured many beautiful, life-filled reefs. We have had the gift of swimming with sea turtles daily at Grand Anse, watching an octopus shift its camouflage as it moved along the seafloor at Ronde Island, and spotting a nurse shark and a giant moray eel beneath the rocks while freediving. Seahorses, giant sea stars, and squid; the list goes on. There is always something else to notice.
The Grenadian people are kind and have welcomed us with open arms. Their land is beyond beautiful. We have slid down natural waterslides until we had bruised bums and ripped bathing suits, jumped from waterfall ledges, and soaked in waterfall pools. We sat beneath the falls until the roar silenced our thoughts, and we embraced the mountain water's message as it pounded our backs. We visited Grand Etang National Park, where a local sat by the crater lake, played guitar, and sang to us. He called to the Mona monkeys, and they swung down from the mountainside to visit with us; it was magical. Mona monkeys are indescribably cute. They live only in Africa, and in Grenada we learned they came to this land on ships carrying enslaved people from Africa. We have learned about Grenada’s Indigenous history and visited forts where the British and French fought over the island. We were fortunate to be here for Carnival and to witness Pretty Mas, a beautiful celebration of Grenadian culture complete with loud Jab Jab music and feather costumes. We visited an art gallery and learned about the local, self-taught artist Doliver Morain; one of his paintings now hangs in our saloon. We have savored Grenadian chocolate, nutmeg, and bananas. We have taken a chocolate-making class and a Grenadian cooking class; we were fortunate to visit the chef’s home and tour his gardens. He shared not only Grenadian food but also insights into education, politics, and health care.
I don’t know whether this will turn out to be the best year of my life. I do know that I recognize how good it is as I live it. For that, I am deeply grateful. Wherever we go next, I think part of me will always be here in Grenada.
