...the lingering scent of one of your many colognes.
...seeing your neatly trimmed beard and stylish haircuts (once you ditched the dad-cuts.)
...hearing the clatter from the kitchen during your frequent foraging forays.
...your simple response, “Alright.” to almost any request I made of you.
...the heavy air of a steamed up bathroom from your sometimes twice-a-day showers.
...discovering you had washed all the dishes.
...the feeling of pride working side by side with you on projects.
...the unmistakable thump of your heavy, size 11, feet across the floor or up the stairs.
...your boyish smirk of uncontainable happiness.
...the approaching rumble of your modified exhaust sports car.
...the thrill of seeing you send the ball over the fence or into the woods beyond the outfield.
...the aroma of your early morning scrambled eggs.
...the delight of coming home to a freshly mowed lawn.
...your respectful response to my frequent, long winded, pontifications: “True.”
Matt, I miss . . . Y O U ! ! !