Because you used to tease me for liking to eat them.
I remember you in strawberries, in pitbulls, in the corner of my parents' balcony.
I remember you in chiropractic, in pineapples, and in the Chinese grocery store my mom and I always go to.
I even remember you every time I see my blue hair, because you gave me the courage to get it.
"You do you, babe." You told me.
"I always do." I said.
You always gave me the extra push I needed. You always said what I needed to hear and for that, I can't thank you enough.
You gave me the courage to be more of myself and do what I always wanted to do, but kept putting off. I could only hope I gave you the courage to be more of you too.
I remember you in the most unexpected of times. I remember being in the car, laughing with my family over something my siblings said. I stopped mid laugh, because I thought to myself, "My baby would really find this funny." But you weren't my baby anymore.
Funny how I went from full laugh to biting my lips so hard to stop myself from crying.
I used to tell you everything. I used to call you if something funny happened, something exciting, or something sad.
I remember you when I'm alone in my car driving home from work, 'cause you used to call me to keep me company. You hated it at first, "It's dangerous!" you said, but you relented anyway.
I remember you every single minute of every hour of every day.
I don't think I forget you at all.
I want to though.