This morning started like most mornings out here. I woke up just before 6, grabbed my yoga mat and journal, started the kettle, and headed to the top deck. Matt found the hot kettle, made a pot of French press, and joined me for our morning chat. We watched the sky turn colors as the world came to life. Sea turtles pop up around us like bunnies in our yard at home. We talk about everything and nothing. We’ve had time to really reflect on how we are living as individuals, as partners, and as parents.
This morning, we talked about one of the best and most unexpected parts of this adventure: how much closer it has brought us. We’ve been together about 20 years, and we would both say we came into this with a strong marriage. But in these last few months, I’ve felt a partnership with Matt that I never knew I was missing.
At home, we had life dialed in. Both kids were getting good report cards. We hosted playdates and sleepovers constantly. We did soccer, swim team, horseback riding, mountain biking, and golf. We protected family time from 5 to 8, and both of our careers were exploding. We managed so much, and we did it well.
We were also ships in the night.
We both traveled for work constantly. It wasn’t unusual for someone to ask where Matt was and for me to pause, trying to remember whether it was Singapore or China. I knew when he was coming home, and I knew his flight information was in the family calendar. That calendar was a thing of beauty. Who was getting the kids, who had a work dinner, when a conference was scheduled, who needed an early start to work. We had the system so dialed in that we rarely needed to talk about any of it. Shared calendars, shared files, texts, and emails kept everything moving.
We kept our weekly date night a priority, but as much as we tried to avoid it, we often spent the time going through the to-do list and making plans. Dividing and conquering was how we made our life work.
Boat life started the same way. There was sooooo much to learn that we had no choice but to split it up. We are both “high achievers.” If we’re going to do something, we’re going to do it well. And if we don’t yet have the skills or knowledge to do it well, we’ll work as hard and as long as needed to get there. This is simply who we are, and it’s something we share. So we each dove headfirst into learning, got this ship afloat, and soon ran a tight ship. (Love all the sea sayings.)
We learned to read weather models (lots of weather models) fine-tune boat polars, plan routes, trim sails, and clear in and out of countries. We learned about generator impellers, damaged hoses, and through-hulls. We figured out how to find groceries, pharmacies, hardware stores, and laundromats in unfamiliar places, while also figuring out homeschooling and what we wanted to see and learn about each place we visit.
Over time, we started pulling each other into what we were working on. Sharing what we’d learned. Asking each other questions. Now we do just about everything together. We’ll sit for hours looking at weather models, wind angles, charts, and route options. One of us still knows more about some things or does more of them, but there isn’t a part of this life or this boat that we don’t both touch. Breakers, hoses, engines, cooking, cleaning, repairs, island research, homeschool assignments.
We’ve always pushed back against “man jobs” and “woman jobs.” On land, we were intentional about Matt cooking and doing laundry and me doing yard work and fixing things. Out here, that has continued, but we’re also getting to know each other and learning from each other in new ways. We have different strengths, and so many things we’ve pulled off simply wouldn’t have happened without both of us.
This morning gave us a tiny example. We trade jobs each sail so everyone gets practice. We want both of us, and the kids, to know what to do at the helm, how to raise the main, tack, reef, dock, and pick up a mooring ball. Underway, we’ll sometimes talk through scenarios: “Henry, if a squall hit right now, what would you do?” “Grace, if Dad went overboard right now, what would you do?”
Today, Matt was at the helm, Henry was jumping the main (helping haul it up at the mast), and I was handling lines. When a head car got stuck, I went forward to help Henry.
I realized we needed Henry’s height and Matt’s quick problem-solving up there. I’m a sit-and-think-and-figure-it-out, big-picture, strategic-planning person. Matt is a little more like Maverick in a pinch: don’t think, just do. My best contribution was keeping us pointed into the wind and thinking through the bigger picture. I sent Matt forward, took the helm, and figured out a plan to bring the boat back into the bay if he couldn’t fix it. We switched, worked it out, and carried on. (And yes, you caught that we needed Henry’s height. He has passed Matt by several inches now!)
It was a small moment, but versions of it happen all day. I’ve always known we make a great team. I’m learning how much we love working together and learning from each other. I didn’t anticipate how much I would love this part; I thought we already did this.
A big reason for this year was to take a beat, fully live life with our kids, and make sure our daily decisions reflected our values. We talk often about what we want to bring home with us. I don’t yet know exactly how this kind of togetherness will fit into life on land, but I know I want to make room for it.
For now, we’re no longer ships in the night. We’re together on our ship.
