Peak morning, this sunny mile through peaceful wooden Sweden,
sense of a unity of my blood with all I see.
I wish Mom would have seen this.
It is so wonderful to think it is my heritage,
this graceful, serene land.
Saw a deer back in the wood.”— Vivian Olson, June 15th, 1986
Reading this entry from my grandmother’s diary fills me with so much warmth. When I picture being back in Sweden, it feels like home — calm, familiar, and full of quiet beauty. In so many ways, I feel like my grandparents are there with me, walking those same sunlit paths and breathing in the same crisp air.
During my own visit to Sweden, I often found myself thinking about those who came before me — the generations that shaped who I am today. My grandma and I both experienced the same awe for the Swedish landscape, the same peace in its forests, and the same feeling of belonging that transcends time.
There’s something incredibly special about reading her words and realizing we shared this deep appreciation for the country that’s part of our heritage. Her poems and reflections remind me that history doesn’t just repeat itself — it connects us. Even though she’s gone, her voice continues to guide me, bridging the past and present in the most beautiful way.

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