My Middle Child Is Moving to Sweden (Not Switzerland) (Blog #55)

By Glenda M. Augustine*

It’s official—my middle child is packing up and moving to Sweden. And before anyone asks, no, not Switzerland. Sweden—the land of fika (coffee breaks with pastries), endless summer daylight, and breathtaking northern skies.

I’ve found myself saying “Sweden, not Switzerland” so often that it has practically become the tagline for this new chapter in our family’s story. It’s funny how frequently those two countries get confused, even though they couldn’t be more different. Switzerland is known for its Alps, chocolate, and banking. Sweden has IKEA, saunas, and a culture that treasures balance, design, and community.

The Mom Perspective

As a mom—a Black mom—watching your child move across an ocean is both thrilling and bittersweet. I’m proud beyond words. It takes courage to step into a new culture, a new language, and a new way of life. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to a lump in my throat when I think about hearing his laughter or those moments when he’d lean down, grin, and call me “Shortie” (he’s 6’2” and I’m 5’2”). Those everyday joys will now be shared through FaceTime instead of in person.

Truth is, he’s been an explorer from the very beginning. At just 16 months old, he climbed out of his crib while everyone was asleep, determined to find me. He made his way downstairs, where I was cleaning, curious and fearless even then. That spirit of independence never left him—it just grew stronger with time.

Since his very first class trip to Rome with his Latin teacher—who we all loved and miss (where are you, Evan Smith?)—he has been fascinated with the idea of living abroad. That spark only grew brighter: a graduation trip with friends to the UK, a summer in Paris while in college. This child of mine has been dreaming of living outside the United States to experience the world and its beautiful cultures.

I encourage it. I support it. And I love this for him. But my heart aches right now, because I will miss him deeply. It’s not like when he lived on the West Coast for years—that was still within “mommy reach.” Sweden feels like a further leap.

What I Hope for Him in Sweden

I hope he embraces the slower pace of fika culture, the beauty of snowy winters and endless summer nights, and the openness of a society that values equality and community. I hope he finds joy, builds new friendships, and discovers a sense of home—even thousands of miles away from where he grew up.

What I’ll Hold Onto

For me, this season is about learning to let go while also holding tight—tight to the pride, the love, and the knowledge that I raised someone brave enough to take this leap.

Even from across the ocean, I know I’ll still hear his laughter in my heart. And no matter how far Sweden may feel, I’ll always be his mom—and always his “Shortie.”

A Note to My Son

To my middle child: You have always been curious, adventurous, and unafraid to step into the world. From climbing out of your crib at 16 months just to find me, to Rome, Paris, the West Coast, and now Sweden—you’ve carried that spark of exploration with you. I want you to know that even as you chase new horizons, you’ll never be out of reach of my love.

Go shine, live fully, and soak in all that this beautiful world has to offer. I’ll be here cheering you on—and waiting for that next “Shortie” when you come home.

*Glenda M. Augustine is co-Founder of 2 Black Moms & A Mic