The Notebooks Never Complained

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Then life happened.
The years that built me production
People sometimes ask why I didn’t chase music full time.
Simple.
 
It was math.
 
I’ve always thought I was born about ten years too late.
Timing has never exactly been my superpower.
 
The singer-songwriters I admired had already made their mark…
Music was my passion.
It just wasn’t my business plan.
Besides…
I’ve always been kind of partial to regular meals.

So I got a job.
Built a career.
Raised a family.
Music never left.
Every house had a guitar leaning in the corner.
Somewhere nearby…
there was always a little recording setup.
 

As life got busier.
The writing continued when I could.
The notebooks never complained.
They just waited.
 
Then one day… during a move… I lost them.
Not one notebook.
All of them.
The empty box production
For two days I couldn’t find them.
I searched every box.
Every closet.
Every place I could think of.
Because I hadn’t just lost my notebooks.
I’d lost my lyrics.
My stories.
My memories.
Forty years of breadcrumbs…
leading back through a life I never wanted to forget. 
I’d lost the only conversation I’d ever had with myself. 
 
There’s a fine line between prophecy and paranoia.
By day two…
I was firmly on the paranoia side of that line. 
When they finally turned up…
I just sat there looking at them.
Smiling.
Relieved.
Finding the boxes
Because somewhere inside those notebooks…
was the boy I’d almost forgotten.
And he still had a story to tell. 
It was about to get interesting….

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