|EXACTLY one year apart to the day: 6/19/12 & 6/19/13|
I love when the universe is precise. Last year they forgot to pick up the pianos after an urban art installation. We'd been cooped up in our apartment getting through Tristan's fifth round of bronchitis and since he'd had a couple doses of antibiotics I decided we were just grand. Then we saw this beautiful piano just sitting there.
This year I kept an ear to the wind because sometimes kitsch has a way of repeating itself.
We were not disappointed.
I can't be sure because he's only played the piano a few times (and always outside), but since he likes to sing "Goodbye, Goodbye" by Tegan and Sara a LOT - even as he falls asleep - that he is pounding that one out.
That's not a bitter love song - it's a bitter NICU song. I mean, think about it:
Goodbye like the first time
You never really knew me
Never really saw me
Saw me like they did
I always said he was a Baby Goth. The whole song is about dejected preemie angst. KIDDING...!...?
He's just expressive like that.
Disclaimer: the only way I can keep stuff like this straight is because of my One Line a Day book!