It’s The Little Things…

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It’s the little things. It’s your toothbrush in the shower. It’s your dirty cups beside the bed. It’s smelling your deodorant  It’s the notes you wrote me; without knowing that one day they will mean so much. It’s your dirty clothes on the floor. It’s your meat in the freezer. It’s your pillow on our bed. It’s your DVD’s on the shelf. It’s your phone and your wallet in the drawer. It’s seeing helicopters, police officers, fire engins and ambulance drivers. It’s hearing the sirens. It’s getting a text message and hoping it’s from you. It’s your tyre mark on the road. It’s the absence of your beautiful smile. It’s seeing other couples together and happy. It’s the empty promise of “I will always be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” It’s the hedge that hasn’t been trimmed. It’s the fire that hasn’t been cleaned out. It’s wearing your socks. It’s hearing our songs on the radio. It’s driving through Gerringong. It’s thinking I hear you come home. It’s carrying your death certificate alongside our marriage certificate. It’s seeing someone who looks like you. It’s your journal. It’s showering alone. It’s making morning coffee only for myself. It’s all the books about marriage on the shelf. It’s orange. It’s cooking for one. It’s eating for one. It’s your tools in the garage. It’s your bike gear. It’s the photos. It’s wishing it isn’t true. It’s me without you.

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