I went to a residential magnet school for my Junior and Senior years of high school. Periodically, all the students were sent home for extended weekends with their families. If I had the chance, I would totally relive my very first extended weekend home. As I recall, I spent much of that weekend desperately wanting to go back to school. If I could, I would encourage younger-me to really pay attention to my family, especially my mom. That weekend was both a first and a last - it was my first weekend home from a school I loved, and it was the last time I spent time with my mom. She died later that fall.
Mom's death rearranged the possible paths for my life; I really can't say who I would be today if she had lived longer. I would like to think we would be friends were she still alive. I know without a doubt that she would love me, regardless of whether she understood or even liked the woman I grew into. Even if she totally disapproved of my decisions, she would still love me, and try to build a positive relationship. To my mind, that's what it means to love a child.
~Waking up feeling rested
~getting every last bit out of the peanut butter jar without getting any on my hands
~Using a wrist blood pressure monitor at home
~playing some Planescape: Torment
~slightly cooler evening walkies
Tomorrow's prompt: When you were young, what did you want to be when you grew up? How has that aspiration changed over the years?