A Summer in Sweden

When I was thirteen, my mother sent me to stay with her cousin and his family just outside Stockholm for the summer.

We explored the city. We hiked along rocky shorelines and picked blueberries on paths overlooking the Baltic. On Sundays, we gathered for afternoon tea. Ingrid, my cousin’s wife, served a basket of warm, freshly baked buns with butter and marmalade alongside cheese and cold meat. The sea just visible through the trees. I felt nourished in every way possible.

That summer ended, as summers do. The feeling never did.

Adulthood arrived with a different rhythm. The demands of work and family — and for a long stretch, doing it alone — narrowed things in ways I hadn’t expected. Joy became something I squeezed in. The holidays something I managed. An unhurried afternoon started to feel like something I had to justify. I know I am not alone in that.

Sweden became my north star — a reminder that joy isn’t a reward for getting everything else done. It belongs in the middle of an ordinary life. Merrymere is my way of making that possible.

I am building a place to give women something most of us quietly crave but rarely give ourselves — time that’s just for pleasure. A place to celebrate, to relax, to connect — or simply to be. And always, something to look forward to.