It's the little things you remember.
The lights turning on at the end of a movie.
The moon through a car window.
The smell of pool water.
Reaching across the couch for a handful of popcorn.
Bubbles in the bathtub.
Running after fireflies under a star-filled sky.
Two heads close together as you peer down at a puzzle, because you couldn't figure it out on your own.

It’s the little things you remember.
The smell of cookies baking.
The radio turned up too loud.
A colorful band-aid on a little  knee.
A creaky swingset.
Gooey marshmallow making a mess.
Your mother’s “bedtime story” voice.
Squishing together on a too-small couch, so no one has to sit on the floor.

It’s the little things you remember.
Pancakes in fun shapes.
Sparkly rocks collected in a bucket.
Sidewalk chalk.
Building a fort out of the couch cushions.
Fighting over who gets to press the elevator button.
Chocolate milk with a curly straw.
A chorus of "goodnight" as you head up the stairs to bed.
It's the little things.
That's what you miss most.