Everything Reminds Me of You8:27:00 AM
Everything reminds me of you. And I mean everything.
When I smell rosemary, I think of that shampoo you used — the one that's still in our bathroom, 16 months after you died. The one that was in the shower of my friend's grandpa's house, and I couldn't help but use because it smelled like a memory.
A few weeks ago, I went through the McDonald's drive thru and got a Coke, but they accidentally gave me a Diet. It was so disgusting and I'll never know how you drank that stuff. You also used to put peanut m&ms in your popcorn and I've adapted that to mean Ghiradelli milk chocolate chips — that's one quirk of yours that I can get behind.
Every time I drive by an Office Max, I remember begrudgingly having to drop you off or pick you up from work. I'll also remember getting you to buy me sharpies with your discount, and that zebra notebook and unicorn folder that you bought for me on a whim.
When I hear Blank Space, I think of the day when I took you to go pick up your motorcycle. My requirement was that you let me deejay, and that was really the only music that you had that I liked. We sang our hearts out, like the scorned ex-girlfriends we were meant to be. I still cry every time I hear that song. But to be honest, most music reminds me of you — you were such a music elitist.
When I see horses, I think of our childhood bedroom. My half was covered in cats (naturally), and yours was covered in horses. I remember going to the barn when you had horseback riding lessons. I remember looking up to you (literally and figuratively), my big sister.
I remember how we both got American Girl Dolls. I played with mine and styled her hair and changed her clothes and dropped her a lot. You wanted yours to stay in mint condition, to give to your future daughter someday. Every time I see one of those stupid dolls my heart breaks a little, thinking of how you'll never get that chance.
I really miss you Julian.