Today marks the 11th anniversary of my dead wife.

It’s funny the little things you remember.

Sitting on the steps, because she could not smoke in the house.
Listening for the sound the water made when she rinsed her hair in the shower.  Then scaring her.
Singing dirty songs, and having her laugh at how “wrong” I was.
Waking her up with breakfast in bed, almost every weekend.
Planning elaborate scavenger hunts, with hidden gifts at Christmas.
Love notes on the foggy mirror.
Cleaning her car for her, since she always left spots.
Making love almost every single day we were together.
Late night trips to get her a fountain drink while she was pregnant.
Her waking up in the small hours, just to eat a bowl of cereal and go back to sleep.
How my voice, would calm my son’s kicking in her womb.

Smelling her, always had this amazingly calming affect on me.  Just breathing her in, and knowing she was close.

One of the most vivid memories I have was my morning ritual with her.

I would kiss her lightly on the face till she roused, and ask her:

“What can I do, to make you feel beautiful and loved today?”

I’ll never hear the answer again.

#endtrans