ೃ⁀➷ In the year 1994,
Maya Bennet travels to New York to attend a famous music festival, Woodstock. After stumbling into the wrong tent when searching for her lost boyfriend, she has an odd interaction with a handsome mysterious stranger. A year l...
Cherry Blossom | Lana Del Rey Fade Into You | Mazzy Star Be My Baby | Wings Baby I'm yours | Barbara Lewis In The Woods Somewhere | Hozier
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"Slow down you crazy child . . . "
Resting on my bed with my knees pulled to my chest, I glance at my opened window and watch the thin floral curtains get pushed around by the cool seventy-degree breeze that drifts into my sunlit bedroom. I tap the pad of my finger against the poetry book I have held tightly in my hands, breathing in the comforting smell of the vanilla candle that's burning beside me on my nightstand. I close my eyes shut for just a moment, relaxing at the sound of the Billy Joel record that spins around on my turntable, along with the birds chirping loudly outside—It's so nice out today.
The sounds of kids running up and down the street, laughing on their bicycles with grocery bags full of ice cream pints hanging from their handlebars, have caught my attention as soon as I woke up to the sun beaming down on my warm skin as I rolled over in my bed a few hours ago. Sidewalk chalk scraping along burning concrete, laughter from teenagers in cars that pass by, and music flowing throughout the house; starting in my bedroom, and carrying on through the radio as it plays loudly in the kitchen down the steps.
It's moments like these when I feel most at peace. The evenings where I can still smell the coconut shampoo in my damp hair while smoothing my soft fingertips down my freshly shaved legs which were rubbed in with a similar coconut-scented lotion from our trip to the mall a few days ago—When I finally relax after straightening my room for an hour, while cleaning supply scents fill the air along with freshly cut grass outside of my window, and barbecue food which is being made throughout town.
It's far from hot enough to wear a bikini, but it's nowhere near cold enough for a coat. It's the perfect type of weather when you go outside in a pair of jeans and make your way back into the house for dinner hours later with grass stains on your knees and dirt beneath your nails from the adventure you took on with your childhood friends—When the warm sun leaves your forehead slightly damp, but not hot enough to cause a drop of sweat rolling down your freshly sun-tanned skin.
A part of me feels a desperate need to soak in the calmness of the sunlight creeping through my opened window. But another part of me knows a few of the girls who grew up in the same town as me, won't ever be able to experience this feeling again—The feeling of serenity.
Sadness fills my tired blue eyes as I look toward my opened window, watching a few more kids who look to be around the age of twelve, riding around on skateboards, rollerblades, and bikes with contagious smiles on their innocent-looking faces. I want to smile at the serotonin that spews from the pores in their rosy cheeks, and I desperately want to be happy seeing them happy and smiling. But I also want to remind them they can't be out much later; that those moments of happiness shouldn't be as important as being safe—But who am I to keep them down?
