Constant offerings of seconds.
Ice cream every afternoon -- the perfect ice cream cone. This isn't a scoop of ice cream atop a cone, oh no. It's ice cream jammed down to the very bottom of the cone and then layered until there's a perfect, giant sphere on top.
Dessert after every meal.
Salt on top of everything.
Giant, beautiful pancakes.
Baseball in the backyard -- when he wouldn't miss a single shot but I was lucky just to graze the ball. Too many players and not enough space, so everyone would take turns being out in far "left field," meaning you stood in the dead patch of grass and didn't actually get to play.
Riding tiny bikes down the slanted driveway.
Playing a complicated outer space game where the truck bed was the spaceship and water guns were our weapons.
Swinging on the porch swing when my feet wouldn't graze the ground.
Pizza pronounced "peeza" instead of "pete-za."
Dominoes where I couldn't do the math, so he helped me but still beat me.
Walking around with my feet on his.
That beautiful laugh that went on and on because he couldn't help it.
I hadn't seen you in years. No time for the eight hour drive, too many classes I couldn't skip.
But I love you, and I hope you knew that.
You will be missed.