Foreword I’m not under a blanket in Madrid. But I am under an awning in Borås. There’s no wind. The sky is mostly cloudy, though patches of blue peek through. A bird calls out now and then. A few campers are waking up. But here, at our spot, I’m the only one awake. A blog post is about to be born. And it happens – right now, in this very moment.
The Zoo – and That Feeling That Never Quite Leaves
We arrived in Borås yesterday. We went to the zoo, as we’ve done before. And yes, I always have mixed feelings about it.
It’s beautiful to see animals you’d never encounter otherwise. To hear knowledgeable, passionate staff talk about them with warmth and pride.
But then comes that other feeling. The one that settles like a stone in my stomach.
These animals… they don’t belong here. An elephant is meant to roam far and wide – not in slow circles inside an enclosure. It doesn’t look natural. It isn’t natural.
I know zoos do a lot of good. They work to preserve species. They educate. They raise awareness. And still. I feel it every time. It’s not freedom. It’s an attempt. And sometimes… attempts just aren’t enough.
Too Hot for Animals – and for Us
It was too hot. Really too hot. And we were far from alone – crowds of people filled the paths. The animals were hiding. And the kids with us… they just weren’t as interested this time.
Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the crowds. Maybe we’ve just seen enough now. Maybe we’re done. That’s what my daughter and I said on our way out. We’ve done our share of the zoo.
Still, there were sweet moments. We found shade. We had soft serve. The sandwiches and pancakes we brought disappeared quickly. The kids got absolutely soaked chasing fountains in the play area – laughing until it became contagious.
In that mess of water and squeals, there was something peaceful. A pause from the heat and the crowd.
Fifty Meters of Relief – and a Night with Sausages and Cards
After the zoo, we headed to the pool nearby. Not every day you get to swim in a 50-meter pool. It was a balm. For body and soul.
We swam, jumped, played. And I felt it – here I am. Here we are. Right now.
When we got back to the camper, my husband was grilling sausages. I made mashed potatoes. Everyone ate. It wasn’t gourmet, but we were hungry – and that made it good.
Later, we played Chicago with my daughter and her partner. I had a great hand – but their strange rules meant no one actually won.
Then we headed into town. Movits were playing in the city park. I’d only seen clips my daughter had posted on Facebook and thought, “Eh, not my kind of music.” But I was wrong. There was rhythm, groove, and lyrics that spoke to me. And they were from way up north – which warmed me. Creativity is alive across the whole country.
But that’s also when it began to scratch. That other thing. The thing that didn’t sit right.
When Night Falls – and the Kids Aren’t Home
There were so many people. Music, laughter, movement. And safety – thanks to the many police officers and security guards. It felt reassuring.
But then I saw them.
The kids.
Girls and boys. None of them older than 14. Many of them barely 12 or 13. Big groups. Makeup. Tough stares. Twitchy movements. Shifty eyes.
And I knew. I knew what I was seeing.
I’ve seen it before. In my job. In real life. These are kids who are getting lost.
And it wasn’t a judgment. It was experience. I could spot the ones who had already tried things. I could see the weight they were carrying – things they should never have to carry.
And all I could think was: Where are you, parents?
What makes you not see this? Do you really think your kids are little angels? Standing there – with fire in their eyes and the wrong people around them?
It tells me they’re not angels. And it should tell you the same.
You need to wake up. Not later. Now. It’s already late.
This isn’t a path kids “end up on.” It’s a path they’re pushed onto – when no one’s holding the door closed at home.
I was furious. And heartbroken. No child should have to be grown-up at that age. No child should be navigating drugs, threats, violence – because their parents can’t be bothered to be the boring adult who says no.
That’s what parenting is. It’s being the one who says: “No. You’re staying home.”
It’s checking in. Talking to other parents. Knowing where your kids are – really knowing.
Don’t you see? It’s scared kids who carry weapons. Scared, disguised kids who need parents.
No kid should need a weapon to feel safe in town. They should be home – with you – even if it means playing boring board games.
Don’t you get it? These are scared children. They hide behind Gucci caps and fake status. But it’s not real. It’s a shield.
It’s not cute. It’s dangerous.
And it’s on us.
My Friend, Her Films – and the Question We Don’t Ask
Lastly – a soft end. I want to share my friend’s YouTube channel again. She makes short educational videos for children – about feelings, about life. She works on them late at night, after her own kids have fallen asleep. She records, edits, narrates.
100% for her kids during the day. 100% for others’ kids at night.
And I wonder… when does she take care of herself?
Or maybe – maybe that’s how she does it. Through creating. Through giving. Just like I do it here – with my writing.
Maybe that’s how we save ourselves. One sentence at a time.
Closing Words
This post held a lot. About animals that shouldn’t be in cages. About children who shouldn’t roam the streets alone. About adults who shouldn’t hand over their responsibility. And about the small things – an ice cream in the shade, a laugh in a splash zone, a friend who gives her all.
It’s easy to lose your footing in this world. But maybe, just maybe – it’s in the small, everyday moments that we find it again.
I don’t write to be liked. Im write because the world hurts sometimes – and because I know we need to look ´. I carry experience, but also hope. And the guts not to look away.
Yesterday has already laid down in history. Tomorrow waits up ahead. But right now – this is where life happens. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
Support My Writing
If you’d like to support what I do – my words, my time – you’re welcome to contribute here: paypal.me
It’s not always the big adventures that stay in your heart – sometimes it’s just a day filled with presence, swimming, cinnamon buns and conversation. And sometimes, it’s in the reflection afterward that we truly see what our children need.
A Day to Keep in My Heart
I’m sitting on the sofa with my morning coffee. Yesterday, I didn’t write a post – but for a good reason. The whole day was filled with joy and togetherness.
We were up before seven, ready to meet my little brother and his family for breakfast at Coop. Not a hotel buffet, but close – scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh rolls, yogurt, cereals, juice. We met at 8:00 and enjoyed the morning together. After that, some quick shopping – snacks, drinks, cookies.
Then we drove to Lanesund, our favorite beach. We spent four or five hours there. The kids, especially my boy and my niece, swam almost the entire time. Only surfacing to eat a bun or a waffle – then straight back into the water. It was summer at its best.
After the beach, we grabbed some food at McDonald’s. Later that evening, they came to our house again – bringing fruit salad, chips, and a bit of rosé wine. It was too warm on the patio, so we moved to the front side, where the hammock hangs in the shade. We talked for hours. The kids came out for fruit salad and chips now and then.
The Computer – A Place for Recovery
This morning, I realize what a valuable day it was. My boy said he had a “great day.” He didn’t even miss his computer – and that says a lot. From morning till night, he was fully present in play and connection.
But in the evening, he needed to unplug. To enter his game world. Their daughter didn’t enjoy that part, but we saw it differently. For us, it’s his way of resting.
In our home, we’ve always seen computer games as more than just screen time. It’s a way to pause. For some children – especially those with ADHD – it’s a safe space. In the game, they’re in control. They decide the pace, the story, the limits. And when it gets too much – one click, and it all stops.
Real life doesn’t offer that. Input comes without a pause button. Expectations pile up. So being able to retreat into one’s own space, even for a while – that matters.
Today’s Plan
Today will be a slower day. We’ll pack the motorhome, do a bit of gardening, some laundry. For dinner: pancakes with ice cream and jam. Too hot for anything else.
What do you think?
– How do you see screen time and recovery for kids? – Do you need to “retreat into your bubble” sometimes? – Can computers be a shield, not just a distraction?
Reflection
Understanding our children’s needs is a journey. Sometimes they need play and sun – sometimes a quiet world behind a screen. Both are real. Both are important.
Live today and act today. Yesterday is history and may hold dear memories. Tomorrow won’t arrive until tomorrow – and it might carry emotions born from today, from right now. Yesterday has left its marks on this day, in the shape of memories.
– Carina Ikonen Nilsson
A little callout
Just a small spotlight on my neighbor’s YouTube channel – where she creates educational videos for young children. Click the image or this link to explore a collection of short films designed to help little ones understand life, emotions, and the world around them.
Preface Some days stay with you, like pearls on a string. This is one of them. A day that began with rain and grey skies, and ended in deep reflections, play in the waves, and a troubadour singing for a scattered crowd. Here’s my story from our last day before heading home – written just as it happened.
From rain to sunshine – the day took a turn
Yesterday began with clouds, rain, and wind. However, by late morning, the sun broke through, bringing back the warmth. Despite the gloomy start, we had breakfast outside. Somehow, food always tastes better outdoors – even the driest toast becomes delicious. That’s how it is, at least in my world.
Even before the sun appeared, my husband and I took a walk down to the lake – just to see it.
Photos, swims and dancing waves
My husband had bought a new camera lens, which sparked his creativity. I’ll try to include some of his photos here – let’s see how that goes.
Once the sun came out, we couldn’t resist the water. I lost count of how many times I swam – but it was a lot. One of the swims was from a rocky outcrop with a ladder into the lake. The wind had stirred up fairly large waves, and it took effort to descend without being tossed against the rocks. Still, what a swim it was! The movement felt like a full-body workout. Surprisingly, Lake Vänern was warm.
Sitting on the ground – and getting back up again
In the afternoon, our daughter arrived with little Alfred and her partner. My husband took charge of the grill, and as usual during camping trips, the food tasted amazing. Since we only have three chairs, my daughter and I made do by sitting on the ground.
Now, being 60 years old with a stiff hip and aching back, getting up again wasn’t my most elegant moment. It probably looked quite amusing. Yet with a bit of help from my daughter, I managed just fine.
Playing in the waves – childlike joy
Later, when the others went grocery shopping, Alfred stayed with us. So he and I went down to the lake again – this time under heavy clouds and even bigger waves. We swam and played in the water for over an hour. Bathing with children changes everything – it’s not just about swimming; it’s about adventure. Together, we chased waves and explored the shoreline. By the time we got out, my fingers had turned purple-blue with cold – but I was still smiling.
Bruno the dog, dishwashers and the best eggs ever
After they left, my husband and I went to do the dishes. This campsite has one of those super-fast dishwashers – two minutes and you’re done. What a luxury!
Earlier that morning, we had seen Afghan families having breakfast by the sinks. One woman was cooking a traditional egg dish called Tokhm-e-tomato – eggs fried with onion, tomato sauce, and Middle Eastern spices. It smelled absolutely wonderful. I tapped her gently on the shoulder and told her – this is one of the tastiest things I’ve ever eaten.
Later on, we met a man from another Middle Eastern country who told us he had owned a restaurant and used the exact same kind of dishwasher. I mentioned that my husband and I had looked into buying one ourselves, though it’s a bit bulky and expensive for a regular home. Still – imagine getting your kitchen cleaned in just two minutes!
Respect in the small moments – when hearts want to speak
I stood a few steps behind her. The scent of the food lingered in the air while she focused silently over the frying pan. I wanted to say so much. Over the years, I’ve worked with many boys from her part of the world – boys who arrived in Sweden alone. And I always carried the image of a mother far away – perhaps someone like her – cooking, worrying, hoping.
In my work, I tried to offer those boys what I believed she would have wanted for them: dignity, safety, care, and deep respect.
I wanted to thank her – not just her, but all the women I’ve never met yet still carry in my heart. I wanted to say: I saw your sons. I listened. I tried to be worthy of your trust.
But I stayed quiet. I hesitated, unsure if we would understand each other. Maybe that was a mistake. Sometimes, it doesn’t take perfect words. A smile. A hand on the shoulder. A simple presence. That’s often enough.
People talk about culture clashes. But not here. Not on this campsite. Here, we shared meals, stories, swims, and dishwashing tips. Here, we were just people.
If only we could take that simplicity with us – into society, into our politics, into our everyday encounters. What if we led with curiosity instead of fear, and respect instead of suspicion?
Evening music and a soft goodbye
That evening, there was live music at the bar. Not many people showed up – perhaps because of the weather. A troubadour gave it his all, trying to capture the audience. He was good – had a nice voice and plenty of witty remarks between songs. But most of us were busy socializing.
Still, I appreciated his effort. It added something to our last night here.
This post turned out a bit different. But these are my words, from our final day at the lake. Tomorrow, we pack up and drive home – to celebrate my mother-in-law who turns 81 today. She’s one of the kindest souls I know.
Then it’s back to work for my husband for a week – and after that, two more weeks of spontaneous camper freedom. We don’t know where we’re going yet. And that’s exactly the beauty of it – the freedom to just go.
What do you think?
Have you ever sat on the ground at 60 – and needed a hand getting up?
Have you experienced warm encounters across cultural boundaries?
What’s your most memorable camping moment?
Reflection
Sometimes, the most powerful bridges are built quietly – with a glance, a plate of food, a shared laugh. That’s where humanity lives.
“Live today – right now. Yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow waits out there in the distance. What matters is now.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
Support this blog
If my writing means something to you and you’d like to support what I do, you can do it here:
An unusually ordinary morning. A husband who was awake before me. And a cat who’d been out all night – even though he’s not allowed to. In our home, the roles are clear: I’m the lunch lady and the cleaner, my husband is the cozy corner. But sometimes, routines shift, and then it becomes clear just how much space a little meow can take in our hearts.
An Awake Husband and That Darn Cat
I’ve been awake for a while now, but it was an unusual morning here at home. Not because the cat was lying on top of me to wake me up – he always does that, I’m the one who feeds him. Not even because he jumped up on my legs and patted me with his paw to remind me about breakfast. No, what was unusual was that my husband was already awake.
That happens rarely. Maybe three or four times in all our years together. But today was one of those days.
And I know why.
A Restless Night with the Cat
Findus – my husband’s little cat, his darling and best friend – had been outside all night. Something he absolutely isn’t allowed to do, according to my husband. The cat usually comes in by the evening, but last night he never showed up. And he already seemed a bit under the weather before he went out, which made my husband even more worried.
So there he sat, awake and anxious, with worried eyes and his heart in his throat. Waiting. Listening for every sound. I fell asleep long before he did, so I don’t know how long he lay there listening for the cat. That’s why he was up before me this morning.
Morning Routine with Cat – and Milk in the Coffee
When I woke up, the cat was lying on me as usual. I got up, pressed the button on the coffee machine, poured in milk – and the cat started pawing my legs. Breakfast time. I went to his “pantry,” an IKEA drawer, grabbed his food, and walked toward his bowl.
He attacked my hands as I lifted the bowl – as he always does – and then gobbled his food down. Afterwards, he clawed at the living room chair, meowed, and wanted to go out again. I opened the patio door. He stared at me. I closed the door. He stared at me again. I told him it was raining. Then he slowly approached, his tail waving gently. I opened the door again. This time, he went out.
A Love Story Between a Cat and a Man
The cat isn’t just a pet in this house. He’s my husband’s baby. Meow-meow. Prince Findus. Yes, he probably has ten nicknames.
If anyone ever hurt the cat – my husband would be there like a front-line soldier. He carries the cat inside, dries him off, takes care of him. Me? I’m just the sidekick. I clean, feed, scoop the litter boxes, and try to stop the cat from sneaking in with half-alive prey.
My husband gets the cuddles. The cat seeks him out, purrs in his lap. I just get the shadow of their bond. Jealous? Not of the cat – maybe a little of my husband, who escapes all the work but still gets all the love.
Oops – I guess this turned into a cat post! I was actually going to write about my neighbor.
Want to read the next part where I talk about my neighbor’s YouTube channel, AI as a coworker, and what I really meant to write about? Click here to read Part 2: A YouTube Channel, AI as a Colleague – and Newfound Knowledge
Thank you again for reading my blog. It means more than you know.
Carina Ikonen Nilsson
Reflection:
Sometimes it’s those little shifts in everyday life that speak the loudest. Like who wakes up first. Or who waits by the door. Love can look like a tail waving in the rain – or a glance between a man and a cat.
Carina Ikonen Nilsson ”Live today, right now – yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow waits in the distance. Right now is what matters.”
We use cookies to optimize our website and our service.
Functional
Alltid aktiv
The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
Preferences
The technical storage or access is necessary for the legitimate purpose of storing preferences that are not requested by the subscriber or user.
Statistics
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for statistical purposes.The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for anonymous statistical purposes. Without a subpoena, voluntary compliance on the part of your Internet Service Provider, or additional records from a third party, information stored or retrieved for this purpose alone cannot usually be used to identify you.
Marketing
The technical storage or access is required to create user profiles to send advertising, or to track the user on a website or across several websites for similar marketing purposes.
Du måste vara inloggad för att kunna skicka en kommentar.