By Britta Floyd

I’m writing this post from Switzerland. Upon arrival, my hotel had champagne waiting for us in the lobby and my crew did a toast with me to celebrate such a surreal journey. I spent the day boating and wandering around Zurich, one of many European cities that I’ve had to the pleasure to experience. I sit in my room at the end of the day with tired feet and my things sprawled all over my ultra trendy room with blackout curtains; these are the things I’ve learned to appreciate. I sit there alone having just spent the day walking around with a complete stranger that I may never see again. I relive the view of the Alps from a Zurich river, window shopping on Bahnhofstrasse and searching for the perfect shot to post on my Instagram.

by Stacia L. Brown for The Washington Post

My almost-5-year-old daughter and I do a lot of twirling at home. We pose with our arms raised in third, four and fifth ballet positions and wait for the timer countdown on our camera to tell us our picture’s been taken. We sing Janelle Monae and Emily King at the top of our lungs in the car. When she’s high-strung and on the verb of sobbing over something she “can’t” do, I assume the same superhero voice her father uses when he makes her puff out her chest and proclaim, “I can do … ANYTHING!” Then we twirl more, in imaginary capes.

by Jenn M. Jackson