I spent this last weekend in Vegas with my mother, visiting my wonderful aunt and family. It was exactly what the doctor ordered: sleeping in till embarrassing hours, promising myself I'd go running every day and breaking that promise without feeling guilty, eating amazing food and too many red vines, IBC rootbeer (my favorite) by the pool. having no sense of what time of the day it was, or the day of the week for that matter. no schedule.
a real vacation
my mom and I took our time there and back, stopping at all the small towns between provo and vegas, exploring antique store after antique store. My favorite find? A vintage picnic basket. I read Stephen King short stories aloud and my mother told me stories of her childhood. it's times like these I wish I were rich and could hire someone to document my life. and then again, I know that no photos, no words, no moving images could ever do justice to the memories I've made.
now I'm home. and I'm happy to be home, because that vacation was everything it could have been. it was rejuvenating. I feel ready to be a better me.