alison left one hour and fifteen minutes ago, heading off in the tempo with a celebratory honk. this weekend has been so strange and surreal and fun and frightening and off-balance.

in a weird similarity to her previous visit, i prefaced alison's arrival with a trip to test drive a car. fortunately, this one turned out much much nicer; monday dad will be driving the 45 minuts to south holland again to have it checked out with a mechanic.

alison arrived, calling the house an hour later than she expected to arrive. she was at the sitco, and couldn't find coolidge -- i whipped on my jacket and jogged to the station. out of breath, i skidded into the parking lot to find her leaning against her car and watching the road. i pulled a lemonhead and a cherryhead out, one in each hand, and snuck up behind her.

"Pick a hand," I said as she turned suddenly, then laughed. I grinned. "Well? Pick a hand." She grabbed my left hand, extracted the lemonhead, then clapped and laughed.

alison had arrived.

things that i should never forget:

going out to grab giordano's, eating happily and being distracted by the waiter dressed as julius caesar

the sound of alison's voice and the look in her eyes as she laughed

the drive to NIU for the wrong way charlie concert; listening to music and talking deep things, and being on the verge of telling her that i like the honest thoughtful her even more than the laughing joking teasing her.

alison trying on my hat, and rolling her eyes.

the laughing and meeting and greeting and lounging with jason and beck and dawn and deacon and danny and alison on the couch-strewn floor of the Catacombs.

staying late for the autumn war; alison leaning her head slightly on my arm as she listened to them. thoughtful, coffee-stained lyrics pushing through agressive accousti-rock.

crashing at jason's, laughing as he and she traded jokes and witticisms and playful jabs.

her head on my shoulder and her fingers slowly lacing with mine as she drifted into half-sleep on the couch, jason thundering away with his mixing.

a goodnight hug that wouldn't end for minutes. "you know i'll never let go," she whispered wryly with her face buried in my shoulder.

veggie tales.

the smooth skin of her wrist as i traced light patterns with my fingertip.

her laugh, hearty and playfully malicious, as she watched the big brother jake spot and read old kidstuffs.