You sit down at the piano and wiggle a little into a comfortable position. You flip through lyrics with your pointer finger like you’re enthusiastically telling a story to a crowd, your best moments. The first chord rings out and I recognize the song but don’t at the same time because you love an epic rock pop ballad with a crooning dude and they blend together in my head. I spend a minute observing your frame and profile, how grown-up you look even in your full body fuzzy pajamas. Now you’re singing, quiet at first and I live for the moment you really start belting it out. Your tiny nine year old voice being pushed to the side as you try on a full powerful note. I can see it fill you up and burst back out.
You’ve gotten bigger but still so warm and snuggly and sweet, draped across me on a sleepy morning your solidness anchors me down to the earth. On more dramatic days I wonder what would happen if you got up and I stayed perfectly still. I might float away or turn to air as you breathe in a big gulp and sing again.