Maia is homesick.
It happens every so often. She starts to think about the fun she had with her friends and extended family and our new life, our sailing life, seems to pale in comparison.
She misses the simple things: walking to the park and finding her friends playing there, visiting a neighbourhood house that as Maia says, “goes over the top” with Christmas decorations, or visiting our neighbourhood grocery store where the owner always called her, “my beautiful princess”.
We try to convince her that someday, these memories, the ones we are creating now as a little nomadic family of three, will be just as poignant as the ones she’s clinging to.
We try to convince her that pouting and being sad is a choice.
We get nowhere.
But sometimes when just we let the day unfold – when she visits a shell shop and makes such good friends with the shop keeper that he gives her a bag of shells for half-off, or when we attend a Christmas block party and she joins an informal children’s choir, or when she is so excited by Christmas lights that she can’t help jumping up and down – those are the moments when we know it will be okay.
In these bright moments our new life gets its lustre back – and it shines.