For twenty years, it sat in silence. A folded piece of paper, yellowing at the edges, locked in a worn leather guitar case beneath the hollow body of a Martin D-28. It had survived two decades of dust, moving boxes, and storage rooms, untouched by light or air. It wasn’t a song lyric, or a contract, or a scrap from the road. It was something far rarer: a letter Waylon Jennings had written to his young son — a letter no one outside the family had ever seen.
