He is everywhere I look, in everything I hear, in everything I sense. He just is . . . everywhere. In my memories, the good and the bad, in new movies that we would have gone to see together, in hikes we never took, in restaurants we never tried. He is in the clothes I wear, he is there in the mornings , he is there in the afternoons after work, he is there.
He is there in the morning, when I wake up and the coffee is not made, and there is no cup waiting for me. He is there, behind me in the mirror while I dry my hair, fighting me for space that we don’t share anymore, he is there when I’m cold because I’m cold and he is there when I’m hot because he was hot. He is there, everywhere.
I see him dancing around the house, I see him sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, I see him . . . I see him just now where he is not.
He is not there, and yet I see him.