I was laying on the couch having a bit of a nap and I started thinking about number twelve. I miss him and I was praying about him. And then I started thinking about last summer and how we didn't get to see each other much despite living in the same city because of the hours we worked. And I remember he used to come see me before we both went to work at night and I was usually napping from about 2:30-4 so he'd come in my house and he'd come downstairs and watch me sleep. Then he'd kiss my forehead to wake me up and I'd just sit beside him on the floor and lay in his arms.
I know we had and still have our share of issues but he made me really happy and I guess I need to remember how happy the little things he did everyday made me instead of wishing he'd do extravagant gestures to show me how he felt. The little things really do mean the most.
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