"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band"
Pete opened the photo album and smiled instantly. She never wanted to wear dresses; it was always skinny jeans for his little L.A. lady.
"Pretty eyes, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man"
She had her mother's eyes. The most beautiful he'd ever seen or ever would. She got her mother's smirk too. That self-confident little smile that showed everyone who was truly in charge in any situation. He shook his head at the thought of his son-in-law. He was convinced she'd be his blue jean baby forever. He should have known better.
"Now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand"
There was Jane, six months pregnant and exhausted. Jane and three-year-old Sarah dancing in the kitchen. He was fairly certain that Sarah had learned to dance before she had walked. Her mother loved dancing, and she instilled that same love in her daughter.
"Piano man, he makes a stand in the auditorium"
It was Alex's first ever concert. He was nineteen. Seventeen-year-old Sarah was sat in the front row. The look of pride and love on her face was nearly blinding.
"Looking on she sings the songs; the words she knows; the tune she hums"
He motioned to her and she froze. He motioned again and Pete got up to escort Sarah up the steps and onto the stage. Two stage-hands set up a microphone by the piano. Alex smiled and introduced her to the crowd. He kissed her cheek and went back to the piano. He played. She sang.
Pete closed the photo album and looked at the pictures on the walls. His grandchildren. An awkward-sounding laugh. He smiled and turned to the one person who'd made losing his little girl alright. Jane laughed again and put the photo album away. There was no point to living in the past. Sarah and Alex were on their way for Thanksgiving dinner anyway.