The Room I Almost Took Back

I know it made sense to record in a bedroom at seven.

And at fourteen.

At nineteen, it still made sense. Maybe even at twenty-five.

Somehow, by my forties, I really thought I would have some kind of dedicated setup.

And I was almost there.

But then I saw how Miles used the space.

The familiar relaxation of a body and mind settling into safety. The way all the everything gets to fade into the background for a minute inside such a busy brain.

Sometimes he concentrates on sorting his cards.

Sometimes he watches videos to learn new trick shots.

Sometimes he just collapses on the couch, plays with his sister, or lets himself completely veg out.

I had a space like that as a kid. I know what it is to have somewhere your whole system can finally unclench.

So I cannot take his.

Even if it was technically designated as my music area.

So...

I am creating a new one.

There are only a few small issues.

The suffocating aura of a small, boxy room with no windows or airflow, for example.

And the fact that the walk-in closet I have managed to pack full of clothes for the better part of a decade must now magically expand into a full-on Narnia music studio while continuing to hold all of those clothes.

Minor details.

It will still be that space for me.

And my kid will have his.

The next ones will, too.

I am not blind to how rare it is to feel truly safe—in an environment, with another person, or even within one of your own coping skills.

When I see that kind of safety, damn right I will protect it.

And I would do it for you, too.