The guitar is leaning against the half wall separating the kitchen and the living room. It's just a wall  good only for piling mail and car keys and little toys that fall to either side when reaching for mail or car keys.

I'm gonna knock that wall out when I get up the guts and buy a sledgehammer. Then the guitar will move to the kitchen table and lean up against the chair beside me. It'll follow me to the bedroom and hang out on the bed with the clean laundry piles and changes of clothes. 

I'm keeping the guitar out. I'm picking it up,  trying out a line, and putting it back down again. I feel the urgency to get something out. I don't really know what that thing is, but I know that it won't happen if the guitar's in its case.

MLK weekend is coming up and I am driving to Iowa, meeting my friends at a cabin in a state park and we're gonna talk songs and songwriting. I am really looking forward to the work. I'm really looking forward to hanging out with my friends.

It's like we're all bringing a sledgehammer to the retreat and we're gonna help each other knock down whatever half wall is keeping us from the better song, the better line, the first step.

Today is a workout, a work shift, a basketball game, homework, snack, but first I need to get the kids up from their cozy beds. This is the part neither of us enjoy.

It's like every night we build up a nice little half wall between the kitchen and the living room where all the keys and pillows and mail are stacked up...and then I'm the sledgehammer who knocks it down.

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