There is a god, maybe many of them. Somewhere along the lines of human existence one of these gods spawned forth a Willie Nelson. It matters not, how he got here, just that he is here. He is here for me.

Willie Nelson is the god of calm. No matter how hectic, stressful, erratic and crazy my life becomes, my moment of “count to ten” is always Willie Nelson. The calm that radiates from the soul of that beautiful man is more than weed and voice. I can’t sing and I don’t smoke.

Willie is a gorgeous example of what happens when a human just chills the fuck out. In my mind, he walks into a room and life stands still. No road rage, no sadness, no Rush Limbaugh.

Willie Nelson has been there for me. I want him to visit my home. I want to sit on the front porch and watch cars drive by, while we drink cold Miller Lites from a cooler sitting between us. I want to walk through the woods with him while the light changes into the yellowish hue of a 1970’s photograph. Not that Instagram bullshit either, the real thing. The crosshatch texture, the smell, the carpet and beer cans, cigarettes lit in the ashtrays, the real 1970’s in a photograph. Willie Nelson and I will have a slumber party and wear our flannel pajamas and drink strawberry soda and eat M&Ms while watching the Flintstones. Imagine falling asleep under a quilt, outside, staring up at the sky with a fire beside you and Willie Nelson playing guitar and singing beside you. There are a million miles to go in the morning but that moment is so calm. Thank you, Willie Nelson.

May you all have a beautiful Willie Nelson Day!