Today in my teenage angst, I made a huge deal of my favorite weekend of the year. I look forward to Thanksgiving (which I insist on calling T-giving, because I think it's cool) every year, because on the Thanksgiving weekends of the last two years of my first undergrad, I brought a million people home for the weekend and they were the best two weekends of my life.
The first year included friends Michelle, Charyssa and her sister Loreea. Michelle had never been to my house for a weekend before and spent the first hour inspecting our cupboards. Michelle really likes food. She says her love language is gifts of food. Charyssa and Loreea didn't arrive until late Friday, but we made the most of it. We went on several walks, ate a lot of food, did some homework, and laughed. We laughed. My parents, as I've said before, are very generous people. I like to make use of this.
Both of these weekends seemed to last forever. Largely because they were four days long; practically vacations. But we seemed to pack everything into those weekends. So much so that when they were over, I couldn't wait to do it again.
I'm grateful for so much this year, and I suppose that should include what this weekend used to be.