It’s funny how time has a way of quieting even the loudest hearts. For a man who once stood before roaring crowds and waving flags, Toby Keith now finds his rhythm in something smaller — the slow rise and fall of a grandbaby’s breath against his chest. The spotlight’s gone, but the light never left. It just moved — into mornings like this, where peace hums softer than applause ever could. He used to sing about pride, about standing tall when the world got rough. Now he hums lullabies, his calloused hand resting over a heartbeat that knows nothing of fame — only warmth, only safety, only love. Maybe that’s how every song ends — not with a curtain, but with a moment like this, where the music finally finds where it belongs.
Introduction I remember the first time I stumbled across My List on the radio—it was...