Guest post by Nancy Bartelt. When I was a kid, I loved taking the two-hour road trip south across the Wisconsin-Illinois border to visit my grandparents. As soon as we arrived at their house, I’d always be greeted with a warm hug, huge smiles, and curious questions about my life. And—almost every time—the best-mashed potatoes in the world.

This poem reverberates of winters gone by, a mother’s memory of a fearless girl full of zest. Today she is an ever-changing beauty who teaches me about seizing life.