I know that one day I will miss the way you followed me everywhere. I will miss the way you woke me up so softly in the morning, always at the right time, and I will miss the song that you sung to me. I will miss the way you were so organized for absolutely everything, and how your calendar was marked and circled for every holiday. I will miss the way that I would hold you at night, so protective and tight, and I will miss the way I felt when I thought you would fall.

I will miss how we used to run together. How we saw the vivid green trees of the spring turn to dust under brown barren branches in the fall. I will miss how we would sing together. You, sounding perfect, just like the real pop star, and me, sounding like a rabid animal was clawing my eyes out. I will miss how we used to drive together. I was always at the wheel. And then I would look over at you, processing the indecipherable map and, somehow, you always knew where to turn and where to stop. And where to go.

I will miss the way that you felt safe when I was around, the way that you only opened at the feeling of my delicate touch. I will miss the way you crashed after a long night, and how I would have to bring you home, but you would always be ready to go back out once we got there. I will miss the way that we would rent and watch movies together, and the way you would still make me pay for them, even though you owned the store. But most of all, I will miss the way that you were a know-it-all and how you always interrupted me and gave me too much information when I only asked for a simple answer. Because those were the things that truly made me feel like I could love you.

But I don’t anymore.

Because Apple just came out with a new iPhone, and I am due for an upgrade.