I remember where I did it.
On the front porch of her house.
It was just another afternoon.
School was over.
I'd asked if we could talk before I left for a show that evening.
Maybe and I had spent countless afternoons on that porch.
Sometimes we'd sit on the swing.
Sometimes we'd walk through the neighborhood.
Sometimes we'd talk for hours.
Sometimes we hardly talked at all.
Neither one of us ever seemed to mind the silence.
We were just happy being together.
Forever didn't seem all that far away.
By then, my guitar almost always came with me.
It had become part of who I was.
If I wasn't in school...
there was a pretty good chance that guitar wasn't very far away.
I'd been writing songs.
Playing more shows.
Spending time with musicians who were older than I was.
The road ahead seemed bigger every day.
I never stopped to notice...
what I was leaving behind.
My guitar case was already in my hand.
Across the street...
the van was already waiting.
Funny...
I don't remember where we were playing that night.
I don't remember who else was riding in the van.
But I remember that porch.
I remember the front steps.
I remember the porch swing hanging perfectly still.
I remember the screen door behind her.
I remember the guitar case in my hand.
She smiled when she saw me.
She had absolutely no idea...
what was about to happen.
"What did you want to talk about?"
For just a second...
I couldn't answer.
I took a deep breath.
I looked down at the guitar case.
Suddenly...
it seemed easier to look at that old case...
than into the eyes of the girl I'd been so certain I'd love forever.
The words came out before I'd really thought about them.
Quietly.
Almost mechanically.
As if someone else had spoken them.
"We need to break up."
The moment the words left my mouth...
I knew I could never take them back.
She just looked at me.
The smile slowly disappeared from her face.
She searched my face...
as if she were trying to find the boy she'd fallen in love with.
After what felt like forever...
she finally whispered...
"Why... Billy?"
I'd heard her laugh.
I'd heard her cry.
I'd heard her whisper that she loved me.
I'd heard her say my name a thousand different ways.
I'd never heard this voice.
I looked down at the guitar case.
Suddenly...
it seemed easier to keep looking down...
than at her.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
I wish I could tell you I knew why.
I didn't.
I only knew something inside me had changed.
She hadn't.
I know that now.
She hadn't done anything wrong.
Everything we had was perfect.
The only thing that had changed...
was me.
I could have told her I was scared.
Scared of growing up.
Scared of what music was becoming.
Scared of how much I loved her.
Scared that somehow...
the dreams I was chasing...
and the life we were building together...
couldn't exist in the same world.
But I didn't know any of that yet.
At fifteen...
I didn't understand what was pulling me away.
I only knew...
something inside me kept telling me to leave.
So I stood there...
holding my guitar...
looking everywhere...
except at the girl who deserved the truth.
I finally looked up.
She was crying.
I'd seen her cry before.
When she was happy.
When I'd sung My Sweet Lady to her.
I'd never seen tears like these.
I wanted to tell her I was scared.
I wanted to tell her none of this was her fault.
I wanted to tell her I loved her.
I wanted to tell her I didn't understand what was happening inside me.
I wanted to tell her I wasn't walking away from her...
I was running from something inside myself I couldn't even name.
But those words...
wouldn't come until much later.
Instead...
I picked up my guitar.
"Goodbye."
It was the smallest word I'd ever spoken.
And the one that echoed the longest.
I walked down the steps.
Crossed the yard.
Climbed into the van.
I never looked back.
Not because I didn't love her.
Because I was afraid if I did...
I wouldn't leave.
The van pulled away.
Another show.
Another audience.
Another night.
Life moved on.
Mine always did.
But some part of me...
never really left that porch.
It would take me many years...
countless tear-stained notebook pages...
to finally face the fears I couldn't face...
on that porch...
so long ago.
Funny how memory works.
We think we remember the words.
We don't.
We remember the feeling.
And sometimes...
those feelings...
find their way into a song.
She deserved more...
than Goodbye.
She deserved an explanation.
She deserved the truth.
But to give her that...
I would have had to understand it myself.
I didn't.
Not then.
It would take me more than fifty years...
before I finally understood it myself.
The song was called...
Goodbye Will Never Come Again.
It was written because...
after all those years...
I finally found my way back...
to face the fears I couldn't face on that porch.
At long last...
I finally had an answer...
to the question she'd asked me...
on that porch...
so many years ago.
"Why... Billy?"
