gifted ovenbird I can’t get words to break through the noise. The preschoolers are screaming in the hall, waiting for their parents. Someone is picking “Jingle Bells” out on the piano. Someone is having a conversation in Mandarin. Someone is having a conversation in English. Someone is watching a YouTube video on their phone with the volume turned up high. A woman walks by with a cart full of plates that rattles and crashes and clanks. Doors bang open and shut for violin lessons and dance lessons and vocal lessons. Every night I sit here and wait, while my daughter fills her brain with music and her feet with magic, and everything leeches out of me. “Such a gifted student,” all my teachers said. But where am I now? Wordless and tired, all the music gone to sleep, all the colours muted. 260924 what's it to you? who go blather from