The WoodStock's Children

I open my eyes to the most beautiful day of my existence. Taking the warmth and comfort of the angel next to me. It’s a wonder how a place like the back seat of a yellow Volkswagen T2 Samba bus could give me the best sleep I’ve ever had. I stared outside the window as the brightest sun peeping through its blanket clouds and shines upon the sweet delicate cheek of my angel. The fragrance of her flowing light brown hair and the smoke of the weeds fill up the vehicle with an artificial happiness. I took a great patience at checking my watch hoping that the one-month long holiday would last a little longer. The watch had just struck noon, meaning I only had 24 hours of joy left before I’m sentenced back to the dull and torturing prison called school. I slowly open the door of the van letting in the sun to wake my heavy-eyed acquaintances. The continuous waves of warm breeze from the seaside sweeps through every inch of my body cooling me down from the heat of the sun.

The aroma of the Starbuck’s coffee and the dishes from the diners drives my feet towards it. There was a whole row of dinners a lined perfectly next to the beach like luring baits for the hungry tourist that visits here. The sea of happy faces that once filled up the piers and streets had vanishes as the summer season ends. The only faces that had left was the faces of the lucky residence that lived their whole life by this majestic beauty. I walked passed the old man who was riding the bicycle cheerfully as I make my way to the diner. I envy this man for having such a genuine happiness and freedom, something I would never have anymore as the term starts.

As I enter through the door, I could feel the sharp stares of the costumers. The room was an exact opposite to the environment outside and so were the people. I saw a cloud of dust circling the ray of lights from the window and the televisions. The costumers weren’t smiling like people outside; here they were sad, worried, angry and unsatisfied. My stomach was rumbling when I reached the counter but the money in pocket could only satisfy me with a warm cup of mocha coffee. It was a strange feeling as I sat there waiting for my order, it was like being back in the school canteen where everyone stares at you as if there was a sticker behind your back saying ‘Kick Me’. Once the old hag in waitress outfit given me back the change I quickly dashed for the exit.

 It was a pleasure to feel the warmth of the sun again as I walk out the door. The last thing I want is to be back into the gloomy pitch I call home. The thoughts of the year ahead of me creep back into my head as I took a sip of my coffee. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the last year for me in high school. I should be happy for I only have to suffer one more day before freedom is mine forever but since it’s the last year meaning there would be loads of studying to do. I have to surprise everyone that ever doubted me.
Somehow, I know that would be impossible without her by my side. Oh how I desire to have their lives. They live free to roam the skies like the birds and the bees. Without a care in the world of the parents, school, work or money.
The sands slithers away as I walk down to the sea. I saw the waves splashing against the pole of the piers washing away the shells and crabs that had been attached by the green slimes. I saw the ashes of the campfire we had the night before, and the spitting memories begin to replay in my head. The songs and laughter’s which echoed through the northern air as the long unwashed hairs tangled together as we hugged the beer bottles and the sandals consumed by the sea. We were the exactly resemblance of the greatest culture that died out in the 80’s killed by the crooked nosed politics. The culture that had given birth to great legends and its biggest achievements that still being praised until to this day, the Woodstock!

 I remember the flickering lights of the fire shines upon her hair as we lay on the sand beneath the piers far away from the noisy friends of ours. The flower falls elegantly combing through the soft brown hair as my dirty hands disturbed it from its original position. The sweet tender touch of her lips on mines could give me warmth through out 7 winters. As the music of our favourites plays by the seaside so did my hands. Enjoying every touch and every love and reaction I get in return. This is where I want to be, this is how I would love to go out of this world. Making love to an angel. We wrestle each other in the muddy sands, even in mud she looks pretty. The intimacy was even more emphasized by the huge waves washing of our sins. And in that moment I feel as if the world had just stopped as I stare down at her while the waves were our ceilings and the sands were our beds. It was the best night of my life.

The wooden floor of the piers creaks as I walked towards the edge. Seeing in the blue horizon I could see nothing more than a lone sail. I saw the kites flying gracefully above me in many colours as the joked on me. They were up there free and beautiful with the winds as the main road. I wished I was the kites, flying freely up in the sky away from my troubles. I felt the warm of my beautiful angel holding my arms tightly. I turn around see her in a daisy white singlet with a beautiful washed out orange puffy gipsy skirts as her enchanting green eyes looked into my soul. I hold her soft delicate cheeks upon my hands as she gives me a tender peck on my dry bitter lips. “Mocha,” she mouthed.
All of a sudden a feeling of confidence filled me inside. I felt ready to face my troubles back home.