• dr. tortoise

Short Story

Updated: Mar 2

I threw on some navy blue slacks and laced it around my waist with a leather belt embossed with a pattern of alpacas and just one word "Bolivia."  Lately its been button downs and a casual collared jacket over. It contrasted well with my shaggy long hair that everyone either loved or hated. My mother hated it. I step into her room and she gave me a disappointed look. For years she nagged me that I should dress better; how I should just wear khaki's and polo's. "Hmph, you think you look elegant, you look like a hippie" My mother said in Spanish. I was taken back, I thought she would finally enjoy what I had on. I thought wrong. I guess just a collar didn't cut it. It was much more, it was the fit, color scheme, and origin of the clothing to satisfy her. Truly I don't think I could ever satisfy her. I didn't understand. I turned around and sat back down on the swivel chair in my room. I wondered why she looked at being a hippie so negatively. Didn't they just support peace and love? I am not a hippie. I just love nature and am against relying on technology. I love simplicity and rawest forms. I love the bitter sweetness of human interactions and lived by Crosby Stills, & Nashs'

"I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are."

I never thought twice about my ideology. It just felt right. Why can't we listen to each other. Why can't we understand one another.  Why can't we all just be Hippies.

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