"The Little Things" by Chelsea M

It’s the little things I remember about you that make me miss you the most. It’s the little things, like how tears would fill your eyes when you laughed at my horrible jokes, that cause me to feel numb. I can stare at a wall for hours when I remember the little things, like how you would speak a bit faster when you were mad. It’s your microscopic mannerisms, like how you would always close your eyes and tap your foot to “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole, that make me wonder if you can hear me call out your name. You would always walk on the side closest to the street in order to protect me from passing cars. You would always give me extra cash when I bought the groceries just so I could keep the change for myself. You would tell me “Drive safe. Call me when you’re home.” and ask “Did you eat yet?” rather than say “I love you so much.” I wonder if you’re happy without me when I think about the little things, like how your footsteps would always be heard because you were too lazy to lift your legs up, and how you would think you’re secretly watching me play the piano even though I know you’re right behind me. I remember the little things, like how you would willingly wear an atrocious fuchsia rather than a subtle black or white. A simple egg roll can make me remember you and how you would bring them to every single pot luck. All of the sudden, we’re back in the kitchen and you’re forcing me to help you cook. It’s the little things that I remember, like how you would always cross your legs when you watched TV, that make me wish you weren’t so far away. I remember how you would force me to bring a jacket everywhere I went no matter the weather. I remember your old, beat up, blue bag that you carried ever since I was a baby. I miss how you would always mispronounce my name because of your heavy accent. I shut down for weeks when I remember that you could never finish a whole slice of cake no matter how hard you tried. Maybe it’s how you would tell the same baby stories of me and my brothers because it made you feel normal again even if it was just for a brief moment; or maybe it’s how you would hide in your room when the chemotherapy became too much just so no one would see you in pain that causes me to listen to your old voicemails. It’s the minor components, like when I wear the shirt I wore when I last saw you, that can make me shake in pure anger as I ask “Why you?”. My body drowns in guilt and regret when I think about the little things that I took for granted. It’s these minuscule details I remember that cause me to feel everything all over again. It’s these diminutive pieces that bring me back into the ER where you looked me in the eye for one last time. It’s these little things that can make me call your phone in hopes that maybe one day you’ll pick up. It’s these little things that I continue to hold onto. Because Ma, it’s the little things I remember about you that must suffice until I see you again.