The Little Things

I can still remember the glass he would drink his Pepsi in. I would always share it with him, whether it was Pepsi or sweet tea. Those were the only two things he would drink, it seemed. Whenever I think about him now, I picture the tanned skin and black jeans he always had on, complete with his hat and tucked-in shirt. I remember the solid colored shirts.The faint cigarette smell would follow him with his cologne trying to overcome the odor. I, unfortunately, must admit that I don’t remember his voice. I feel ashamed that I sometimes can’t remember him as much as I would want to.
I remember that every time I'd use his computer, the mouse would be on the left side, so I'd have to move it to the right. I know that almost every time I see someone write with their left hand, I'm reminded of him.
We would play checkers and tic-tac-toe all the time, and occasionally card games. I think that's why I still love to play old games like those.
Chocolate-covered cherries were his favorite. I used to not like them, and I have no idea why I love them so much today. I can't eat one without thinking of him.
I don't even know how I remember him blowing bubbles. He could blow the largest bubbles I'd ever seen. I couldn't make them as big as he did. They were twice the size of my head. I would chase after them and eat the bubbles. He'd chuckle and tell me that I shouldn't do that.
He would sit out on every clear night on his porch and watch the sky while having a short smoke. He told me about a time he'd seen a comet pass right over his house. I was amazed, wishing I could have seen it. He gave me a book about constellations, and I would read it constantly. He introduced me to so many interesting things at a young age.
It seems as though I think about him almost every day.

A rose from his casket is still pressed in the constellation book he gave me. It's hard to believe that the rose is already six years old.