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I wrote this song about growing older--both me and my family. I was thinking a lot about the rhythms of life, and how the ways I can see my family growing old will be the same ways my family sees me growing old. It's about distance, but also about feeling close to them despite the distance. Pre-Order the physical copy of Beatrice here: https://petersenband.com/product/beat... Stream Beatrice on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/28rzt9... Stream on Apple Music: / beatrice Mom and Dad Mom and Dad fell into a rhythm last spring. It took a fall of getting used to a winter without me. It takes a couple hours now to drive from home to home. It takes just a second longer now to find where everything belongs. Dad’s clinging onto his camera, Mother to stories and rhymes. I’m holding on to how small I am; we’re all holding onto time. There’s a guest in my childhood bedroom. The clothes in the closet still fit. Dad doesn’t run all his miles anymore. Mom walks with a scuff to her step. I’m clinging onto my camera, onto words that she left between lines. My siblings hold onto how small I am, wind the tapes back one last time. I’ll play piano in basements. I’ll solve a crossword at noon. Until everything’s moving a little too fast for steps I just can’t get to move. Everyone fell into their rhythm last spring. It took a fall of getting used to a winter without me.