In Protected

The Little Moments

I am too nostalgic for my own good.

I remember most everything. The little moments. The things said. Most of all, the way things were.

And it’s not until I experience it again without you that I realize I even missed these moments.

Like last weekend when I went to City Mill to buy new plant pots. The last time I was there, the last time I stood in that aisle, was with you. You scared me and pretended like there was a cockroach crawling by.

Or the day I went to Barnes and Nobles and remembered how we would go there together to look at books. Once you bought me two new hardcover books. The other time we went through the children’s section and I showed you my favorite children’s books. All the ways. It was in the turtle book. That’s where we got it from.

And even this morning when I stood by the computer desk in the children’s building room and realized that the last time I stood in that room and leaned against that desk you were there. You still came to youth at the time, and you were doing something by the computer when I came over to say hi.

There are so many new routines that I have built without you now. But then that one little moment hits and I’m immediately reminded of a life with you. How we did those things together. How we always did things together. How it was always us.

But now there is no more us. Now there are no more little moments being created. We are each creating our own moments apart, and maybe one day there will be no more reminders of those little moments with you.

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