it is official: i've been to my first weekend-long music festival.
each day, i'd wake to the neighbors who were in a tent five, maybe six, feet away from my head. they usually began their mornings around 6.30--so i did too. i'd lay in my sleeping bag, covered from head to toe in a warm envelope of darkness before finally revealing the daylight to my face. i'd squint and try to adjust my eyes to the brightness, but after a few failed attempts i'd just sit up and force my eyes open. after shuffling around the plastic floor i'd settle down on the end of my deflating air mattress and try my hardest to muffle the unzipping of zippers as i went about my morning routine.
by the time i'd make it to the toilets there would be a line waiting for my attendance and a mist floating throughout the air as the wind whipped it around. after brushing my teeth in a sink traced with strangers hair, i'd stumble back to the campsite trying my best to avoid water and mud puddles hidden in the grass. after eating a quick breakfast, an apple or dry cereal, i'd be off for the day.
speakers spoke
rain fell
people passed
rain fell
musicians performed
i sat
rain fell
the day passed, evening came, and with it great sounds that filled the air. i'd occupy a crooked, plastic table that had chai stains dribbling down the side from the messes made earlier that morning. i'd sit, staring at the people who filled the stage. their music drowned out the rain, their voices warmed my cold body, their presence aided my loneliness, their words recollected memories.
each night i'd walk the dimly lit paths that led me back to my deflating, makeshift bed. and as i'd wander about, i'd remember the people, places, and things of my life before australia. i'd remember their scents, feelings, warmth, and laughter. i'd remember you, and i'd miss you.
each night i'd fall asleep twice. the first time to the memories from the past, only to be awoken by the screeches and laughter from the present. the second time to the noises of the present, only to be awoken...by the noises of the present.
sincerely,
shae
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