We are dressed for an 8x10 publicity shot, a middle-aged couple looking to say something about our music through our eyes, our clothes, our sincere coolness inviting you to our party. Jammed into a corner of the picture frame is a photo-booth strip my husband lovingly transferred onto metal as a surprise for me when we were newlyweds. We are two young people in love, feeling frisky, feeling the coursing of life through our bodies. A kiss in the final shot.
To my right, our vegetable garden, with its cedar and cattle-wire fence, stands at the edge of a field outside the window. We've hung artwork on that fence; flowers and butterflies, a beat-up Volkswagen van rendered in green and gold and rust. Splashes of rose, aqua, purple, yellow remind me that summer will come again and bring the real butterflies back. Our faithful Scary Garcia stands near the sign I painted that says, "Welcome Friends." This unusually warm, sunny December day flows softly through the open windows, while Sonny Lim plays Mauna Kea Morning on guitar.
My Grandmother smiles gently to my left, her presence a constant reminder of love and sorrow. She is kept company on the top of the bookshelf by my last surviving childhood doll. We both made it out, and we both bear the scars. She was my first grown-up doll. She has a Donna Reed look, and she longs to escape her pearls for some adventure on the world stage.
This is my office. This is where the Past still lives, and the Future beckons, and on this sunny day, the Present fills me like a melody, a love song unchained.