The Day the Stars Crossed Again
I came to see you today, Loretta. Old Trigger was with me, his worn wood warm under my hand, just as he’s been through every mile of this long road. As I settled beside you, my fingers found the strings, and in that instant, the memory of one night in Nashville came rushing back like a flood.
I can still hear my own voice, trembling a little with anticipation, as I picked up the phone after thirty years of silence between us. “Loretta,” I said, “I’ve got a song… and I think it belongs to us.”
That evening was nothing like the grand stages we’d known. There were no bright spotlights, no cheering crowds — only you and me, alone in a quiet, empty hall. When we began to sing Lay Me Down, the song didn’t feel like a goodbye to this world. It felt like an embrace of peace — the kind that comes after a life lived fully, with nothing left unsaid.
I remember telling you once that we were like two stars traveling on different paths, yet always gazing up at the same sky. You smiled at me then — that deep, knowing smile only you could give — and said, “And tonight, Willie, our paths have met.”
It was a moment stitched into my soul, one I carry like a photograph I can never lose.
Now, here I am again, playing that same song. The world around us is quiet, and the air feels heavy with memory. I sing it not just for you, but for every mile, every note, every moment that made up the story of us.
The stars are far apart now, Loretta. But the night they touched, even for just a breath in time, will burn in me for the rest of my days.