And Mitch drew the alto to his mouth, and Sassafrass was grabbed up in the song, the bewitched and tortuous mermaid song that Mitch offered her, to love her. The alto echoed itself and notes swooned on the richness of Mitch’s breath; the air became thick as oceans by Atlantis; and Sassafrass felt ten thousand hands lift her off the earth into leap and run and breathe. Even God came down to L.A., because the sound was pure, and Mitch and Sassafrass were sanctified. And Albert the Great Dane came from around back howling like he was Albert Ayler, and the cats lay up beneath the porch.

Mitch switched into a circus parade rah-rah, and the whole family jigged around the house two or three times, for Sassafrass. She pulled all her belongings just through the front door, shooed the dog away, and vibrantly led Mitch to the long-unshared two-poster bed that almost shimmered this particular day, because the afternoon sun was picking his way through the laced and diaphanous curtains, same as the tiny buds of flowering Judas were coming through the hole behind the rocking chair. And Sassafrass and Mitch discovered the joy in themselves—again—and Mitch jerked up once because Sassafrass was laughing like a spook-house demon; she got enough words out to sing, a la Robeson, “My lawd what a mornin’ . . . oh lawd, what a mo-ooorrr-nnnn . . .” and they consecrated spirits until crickets began messing with the sunset.

Everything was just hustle and bustle. Sassafrass was busy putting her things in old and new places, Mitch was packing his instruments for a gig later on, and Cleo, the neighbor (former Merchant Marine), was yapping away about travelling the world. And folks kept calling because Sassafrass was back. She, who thought she would never be missed, was bowled over by such reception. Even Howard and Otis came by and managed to be pleasant. And Sassafrass forgot she ever had left. Mitch was so healthy and interested in assisting her, she just couldn’t get over it; any of it. She went up to Mitch and pulled his shirt, stage-whispering.

“So this is what happens when you get to play your horn for money, huh? You get generous and committed to livin’—is that right?”