I miss the shape of his fingers and toes.

I miss the smell of the top of his head and his morning breath.

I miss the magic tricks, the play-pretend and goofy dancing.

I miss the puppy-dog eyes and pouty face he’d make to get his way — his big brown eyes as deep as the cosmos.

I miss the way he’d hold my hand when he was just telling me a story.

I miss his laughing fits that made it impossible to understand his story.