I'm Reminded of You Every Time

Every time I serve someone a Cookie Dough single in a bowl, I'm reminded of you.
Every time someone comments on how there's nothing on my hamburger or sandwich, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I drive past Peppino's in Allendale, I'm reminded of you.
Every time anyone mentions the Count of Monte Cristo, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I eat something on a bun, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I'm on 48th Avenue between Lake Michigan Drive and Fillmore, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I do motions for "I've got joy like a fountain," I'm reminded of you.
Every time I play with my Rubik's Cube, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I eat any type of apple dessert, I'm reminded of you.
Every time we reminisce about and make plans for the Bible School staff devotions, I think about how George wore his name tag for the whole rest of the day and because you told me about it first and said I should come to the pool to see it, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I come across M*A*S*H while channel-surfing, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I go to the Musical Fountain in Grand Haven, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I walk to the end of the Grand Haven pier, especially at sunset, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I see a burgundy Saturn that looks even remotely like yours, I'm reminded of you.
Every time I spend time with the Kostens, especially Colin, I'm reminded of you.

And every time I'm reminded of you, I wonder when the next reminder will find me.