Friends! The next 3 blog posts will be about being a musician’s wife. If you know a musician’s wife, share my posts freely. Hope you enjoy.
I am the wife of a singer-songwriter. The wife of a working musician. He is sensitive to critique. He’s drafting a new song and feels great. He’s depressed and money is tight. The dishwasher is broken. But he only writes songs and fine-tunes instruments. He’s ticked that he can’t fix the dishwasher. He’s hurrying out the door for a gig tonight. Don’t get a sitter he mutters, not worth it. No one will be there. Big black cases in the hallway that my kids trip on or want to use as playground equipment. No no no, that’s Dad’s amp. I haul it back to the closet or back under our bed next to two guitar cases. I hate putting away his music crap. I love his music. When he sings I remember again why and where we are headed and for whose glory. Not ours. We count the cash when he gets home from the gig, better than he expected. Cool, he sighs, let’s call a dishwasher repairman.