It happens when I least expect it. Thoughts of you drift through my mind like the atomized wafts of exquisite scent sprayed and spritzed with abandon through the aisles of Saks Fifth Avenue. Oh the perfume lingers!
Once I knew precisely how many days in a row you’d wear that striped shirt.
That no matter how many strawberries I bought it would never be enough.
That there is no joy as complete as four days off from school with new video games and hanging on to power in a power outage.
That there is no rushing when one is lucky enough to spot a sand wasp.
That pizza is meant to be Pepe’s and carved into strips not slices.
That Red Notebooks are for poetry and just the beginning.
That the joy of the Bach Double redoubled when you played half of it.
That jokes can zing and ping around the room like popcorn from an unending popper.
That breakfast in bed is not just for special occasions.
That bow ties are cool, especially when you wear them.
That we are ever and always outnumbered by cats.
That for you a book in hand is a book in heart.
That Thanksgiving is the perfect holiday, turkeyless and inviolate.
That three is the perfect number except when we are five.
Time, I think, is not torn asunder so much as it is the soft ripping of well worn, well loved flannel. They are missed. They are remembered. They are celebrated. They are so very loved.
They are coming home soon. Diving deep into memory to make memories anew!