For the last few chapters, you've walked beside me through some of the moments that shaped my life.
You've wandered Willow Creek.
Sat in our living room.
Met my family.
Watched a shy kid discover music.
Met the girl we simply call Maybe.
And watched that first love quietly slip away.
At the time...
I wasn't trying to write a book.
I wasn't even trying to write songs.
I was just living my life.
The funny part is, the songs had already begun.
Not on a stage.
Not in a recording studio.
Not even with a guitar in my hands.
They began in quiet moments that didn't seem important at the time.
Years later, those memories found their way into music.
These are three of those songs.
Before there was a guitar...
Before there was a stage...
Before there were songs...
There was a little creek behind our house.
I spent countless hours wandering its banks, climbing trees, catching crawdads, watching turtles, and wondering what might be waiting around the next bend.
I thought I was just playing.
I had no idea Willow Creek was teaching me the most important lesson a songwriter could ever learn.
Not how to play.
Not how to sing.
How to notice.
The sound of moving water.
The wind through the willow branches.
The changing seasons.
The little moments most people never stop long enough to see.
Those memories stayed with me long after I left that little creek behind.
Many years later...
they found their way into a song.
Some stories never really leave us.
Years may pass.
Lives change.
But certain memories remain exactly as we left them.
A folded note in speech class.
A snowy winter dance.
A blue dress.
A ring wrapped with yarn so it would fit.
Long walks home after school.
A porch swing where two teenagers thought forever was just beginning.
Those moments stayed tucked away inside my notebooks for decades before they finally became
Every first love has a last conversation.
Mine happened on a front porch with a guitar case in my hand and a show waiting for me somewhere down the road.
At fifteen, I thought I was choosing music.
It took me more than fifty years to understand what I was really leaving behind.
Some songs take an afternoon to write.
This one took a lifetime.
The Journey Continues...
Songs don't always begin when we write them.
Sometimes they begin years—even decades—before the first lyric ever reaches the page.
They begin beside a creek...
on a front porch...
during a walk home from school...
or in a quiet moment that doesn't seem important until life gives it meaning.
Those moments became these songs.
And there are many more stories still waiting to be told.
