It’s the way I swipe to my call log, ready to select you from “most recent.”

It’s the way I catalog funny or maddening things from my day, ready to tell you about all of them.

It’s the way I can’t start driving without tearing up, since car time meant “call Nana time.”

It’s the way I see a new recipe and want to talk to you about what ingredients you’d swap and why.

It’s the way the can opener you got me slices, easy peasy, since we both had trouble with any other kind, dammit.

It’s the way your cookie recipe is in my favorites, but I can’t even start to grab the ingredients from the cabinets.

It’s me adjusting the bracelet I got with your handwriting, a morning ritual I can’t go without.

It’s the way I feel crazy and comforted that I’ve started talking to you, out loud.

It’s the way the stars seem to wink, hoping it’s some kind of sign.

🖤

It’s the way I get out five plates for wet food until I remember.

It’s the way I can almost hear your little “brrrpp,” and constantly rewatch the video.

It’s the way I startle when I look for you in your favorite spots and they sit empty.

It’s the way you were settling in, the fifth Klose kitter, happy and loved.

It’s the way you deserved so much more time earthside than you got.

🖤

It’s the way grief feels, right now.