But if this piano wasn’t tied to my ass, I’d procure some postage, and send in a postcard to PostSecret.
And it’d go a little something like this:
“I’m 5’10”, and little old ladies always stop me in the grocery store to reach things up on the high shelves.
I love it because it’s like seeing my grandma, and feeling good and helpful and loved.
And there’s no baggage, and no guilt over the fact that I haven’t picked up a phone to call her in over 6 months.
(And part of the reason I don’t call is because I’m being selfish, but it will kill me a little if this call is the time she finally forgets who I am, exactly).”