Psychedelia (h.s.)

one

Sprawled out across the orange fuzzy carpet in my bedroom, I flipped through my small but precious collection of vinyls. George Harrison's soft, whimsical voice whispered through my room as All Things Must Pass played on my turntable. I was convinced that I would marry George Harrison one day, despite the fact that he was 30 years old and I was merely 18. I just really appreciated him for providing me with a glimpse of creative genius that I held so closely in my dull, boring, suburban world.

"Jillian!" my mother's voice screamed from the kitchen.

I ignored her, as usual, slowly turning up the volume dial on the turntable. I turned onto my back and closed my eyes, absorbing the harmonic inspiration that came from the etched, black ridges on the record, that is, until the music came to a surprising halt and silence filled the room. I opened my eyes to see my mother standing beside my turntable holding the arm off the record.

"What's your problem?" I yelled, sitting up.

"The only problem around here is your lack of punctuality. You have to leave for school in 15 minutes or you'll be late," she said, putting down the turntable arm and crossing her own. "Go eat breakfast and start walking,"

I grumbled as I slid off my bed, grabbing my backpack and denim jacket before leaving the room. I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of fruity pebbles cereal. As I crunched on mouthfuls of tiny rainbow spheres, I watched the world outside awaken. 

My neighbourhood was alive in amazing synchrony at 8:00 am. Men kissed their wives as they left their houses in suits and ties, driving their nice cars to work- the cars they always bragged about to their fellow male neighbours. Women bustled around inside their houses, making breakfasts and getting stubborn kids out of bed. And all the sons and daughters were scattered around the sidewalks, slowly making their way towards their various schools. A small group of kids passed by my house and I giggled to myself as I pictured them as turtles with their small limbs and big backpack shells. 

A few moments later, I left my house and began walking down the sidewalk. It was hot already, before the sun had even fully rose for the day. It was definitely going to be a hot summer. 

I passed at least 10 cookie-cutter houses, all the exact same design, before I heard someone yell behind me.

"Wait up!" 

I turned to see my best friend Mary running towards me and waving. Her long, blonde hair was flowing behind her like a silken cape. She had her signature piece of fashion on, tied around her neck. Today's was a pale pink colour that almost blended in with her peachy skin. She had a rainbow of ascots and scarves to match all her outfits.

"So, I tried to convince my parents to let me go to the Zeppelin concert this summer," she began.

"Wait, let me guess," I said. "They said no,"

"Damn Jill, how did you know?" she said and blew a big pink ball of bubblegum in front of her face.

"I didn't even bother asking my parents," I said. "But it doesn't matter anyways. We'll be free by then,"

"That is, if we graduate," she replied with a small laugh.

"Well, you definitely will," I said. "You're smart enough to pass all your finals without even studying. I, on the other hand, will need to pray for a miracle,"

The year was 1973 and summer was just around the corner. Both Mary and I had been counting down the days until we moved out of our parents houses. We were graduating high school in less than a month and planned to buy a car and drive to the west coast together once we were done. Neither of us could wait any longer to be free from the authority of our parents and the prison of high school.