He's everywhere

The reminders stop me in my tracks:

The dirty sock among the dust bunnies under the couch.

The extra part for the cheese cutter in the junk drawer in an envelope labeled in his handwriting.

The book he lent me to read, the one about prehistoric sharks showing up in modern day, the one I had no intention of reading but will now just because it was a book he enjoyed.

The winter jacket hanging by the front door, the one I can see him in.

The Lego Star Wars Millennium Falcon sitting on top of his dresser, the one he saved up for and bought with his own money and then spent hours building.

A textbook with his name written in the front and the school year "2014-15."

He's everywhere. But he's not here.