I've been thinking a lot about your quirks. Those little things that were just you, they pop in my head a hundred times a day.
Like every time I run down the stairs, I think about the way you'd take the stairs sideways. I don't think I ever saw you go down the stairs straight on. Which inevitably makes me think of your walk. No one has a walk like yours - trust me, I've looked. I've lost my breath a few times when I've caught a glimpse of someone with your stature, your shadow, a movement like you - but I've never seen anyone walk like you.
Every time I make the kids PB&J, we have them 'super-folded.' It was your invention to try to convince the kids that your sandwiches were the coolest. And it worked. They asked for super folded sandwiches all the time.
The way you held the steering wheel.
The way you always slept on your left side, cause you're right shoulder hurt to sleep on.
How you looked when you dropped to your knees at the front door to welcome running children screaming "Daddy's home!"
The way your ears went red when you were nervous.
The way you sat on your knees instead of sitting indian style - Caleb does it too.
How you cleaned your fingernails when you washed your hair.
The way you'd eat sunflower seeds to stay awake while driving.
The shape of your hands as they'd slap the floor while playing with the kids.
The way your voice got really high when you were laughing really hard.
The way your neck got red every time you got a haircut.
How you looked when you drew a bow.
Just little things I'll never forget, that were just you. Some were things I didn't even realize I'd notice, but in their absence seem so distinct.
I miss you baby. And every weird, crazy, unique thing about you.
I love you always and forever.