Some journeys don’t start at the airport.
They start earlier… in moments you don’t yet realise will matter.
At the end of August, I stood at Schiphol Airport—not to leave, but to welcome. Codee’s father, Roy, arrived for a visit that would quietly shape the weeks ahead.
What followed was a week filled with connection.
Birthdays celebrated together. Laughter around the table. Small, meaningful gifts—some to unwrap, others to carry forward as plans and dreams. We explored familiar places in Almere and shared simple joys, like a visit to Hans en Grietje Pannenkoekenhuis—a place that feels almost like stepping into another world.
And in between it all, something else happened.
Space.
While they spent time together—walking through Dronten, revisiting meaningful spots—I found moments to slow down. To breathe.
But time moves quickly when it matters most.
Soon, the suitcase was packed again—this time filled with memories—and it was time to say goodbye.
When Plans Are Tested
The days after felt calm… at first.
Routine returned. Swimming, small rhythms, a sense of balance. Until, suddenly, that balance shifted.
One wrong movement.
And everything pauses.
Pain, appointments, quick visits to the physio—those moments where you’re reminded how fragile plans can be. But also how strong recovery can be, when guided with care.
Because one thing was clear:
We weren’t giving up what was coming next.
Stepping Into the Unknown
On September 13, everything moved forward.
A taxi ride. A long day of travel. And finally, arrival on Lesbos.
Tired. Relieved. Proud.
Because this wasn’t just a trip.
It was something we had worked towards—despite everything.
That first evening was simple. A meal. A moment to realise:
We made it.
Discovering a Different Way of Traveling
Traveling with limitations doesn’t stop you.
It changes how you move.
Taxi rides instead of long walks. Shuttle buses instead of fixed plans. Pauses where needed. Adjustments without frustration—just acceptance.
And something unexpected happened.
Connection.
Small details—like wearing caps with “Blind Traveler” and “Sighted Guide”—opened doors. People noticed. Help came naturally. A smile, a hand, a moment of patience.
It made the world feel softer.
More understanding.
We explored in our own rhythm. Slower, maybe. But deeper. More aware of everything around us—the sounds, the atmosphere, the feeling of being somewhere completely different.
Lesbos didn’t just show us its beauty.
It showed us possibility.
Back Home, Back to Reality
The journey home was smooth.
Almost too smooth.
Because sometimes, the real impact comes after.
That Sunday evening—fever.
A reminder that even the most beautiful experiences ask something from your body. The week that followed became one of rest, recovery, slowing down again.
Looking Back
And yet…
When we look back, that’s not what stays.
What stays is the courage to go.
The moments we didn’t expect.
The memories we created together.
This wasn’t just a holiday.
It was a step forward.
A proof of what’s possible.
A story we’ll carry with us.
And one thing is certain:
This won’t be the last time. 🤍
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