I miss your smile as I flip through my old pics of you on my phone.
I miss your early morning alarms when you get up to go to work. I miss you coming home smelling of chlorine, your hair still damp from the pool.
I miss how you dress: crisp & handsome in a suit, a matching pocket square at your breast.
I miss us all hanging out: JB spoiling the ends of novels for you; Malcolm sketching buildings in the armchair; Willem sprawled next to you on the couch.
You were the most interesting of all of us. I’m just the writer, documenting your life.
I miss you.
I hope the trail is going well.