Dear Chris,

I really miss you. I miss your smile. I miss the way you’d look at me while lying next to me in bed. I miss your butt in your lululemon pants and the way you smelled when we’d go out on dates. I miss sitting next to you on the couch watching Downton Abbey. I don’t know why of all the shows we watched, that’s the one I picture.

I miss sitting in traffic driving to volleyball and hearing about whatever annoying thing Ethan had you do that day. I miss waking up in the night and seeing your silhouette in front of the computer in your office. I miss wrapping my arm around you at our friends’ house, and always knowing I could go find you, if the other conversations got dull.

I miss the look you’d give me when you were excited and I miss your nervous leg shaking when we’d talk about something serious.

I miss your house in Houston and sleeping on the rock-hard bed. I miss your family. I miss your grandparents.

I miss dancing with you at weddings without fear that were getting too close.

I miss chillville.

I miss HEB Plus before the high blood pressure and the paleo diet. I miss darts on the balcony and sex on the floor of the walk in closet.

I miss the sound of the back door gate scraping against the deck as you’d push it open with your burnt orange lunch bag around your shoulder full of the empty salad containers that I had made for you. I miss your everyday kisses and the feel of your beard against my cheek.

I miss your scallops on Valentine’s Day. Our guacamole. Your weekend breakfasts. The impromptu fancy beer nights. I assure you that I could keep up with you better now than then.

I miss the best travel companion I have ever known.

I miss our conversations. DMB. The Horns. Hockey. Work. Our friends. I miss all the small things that add up to everything.