Sunday has arrived and so ends the holiday weekend.

It's a funny feeling. Too much family time can give one a headache whenever a holiday such as Thanksgiving rolls around. All those little things that you don't much notice about your family members when you see them on an individual basis suddenly become unbelievable, massive, pulsating, festering, insanity-causing flaws when seen in the presence of a room full of people.

I've winced in pain and embarrassment more than a few times in the past couple of days.

At any rate, he visited me for the weekend. Drove twelve hours to get here. It's been one of the major things I've been looking forward to for weeks; that thing that made the days spent at work go just a little faster. We spent all three days together. He showed me around the campus where he went to college, we shopped, saw movies, hung out with my friends, ate Ben and Jerry's ice cream, wrestled.

This morning it came time for him to go, and I watched from the front door as he packed his things into his car in the early morning mist.

And it's weird. Things feel thankfully normal again, but something else feels like it's missing. This dichotomy is a confusing thing. I'm not sure what it means, I can't explain this ripple in my stomach contrasted with the lack of tears and sadness at his departure. Maybe it's just too much at once, maybe I'm too used to being alone.

Or maybe things are just back to the way they're supposed to be.