My life is wonderful, the music is incredible, and I am currently high as a kite.

For the second time today, I am standing in a massive line to use the bathroom. I have concluded that the promoters of Woodstock were not prepared for the enormous amount of people in attendance.

I shuffle from side to side, desperate to empty my bladder. My mind can't seem to process how people can be peeing so slowly that time is almost at a standstill.

Jumping up and down, Rose looks like she is about to explode. "I swear, if people don't hurry up, I'm going to get arrested for indecent exposure and pee behind a bush."

"Let's do it. I'll cover for you if you do the same for me," I say without hesitation.

Rose and I wobble as we walk to find a secluded spot. Well, as private as you can get when surrounded by thousands of people.

We come across a small, dark area, and Rose yells, "Me first!"

She staggers into the dim light, and I turn around to give her privacy.

When I look over the field of people, I'm amazed by the sight. The stage illuminates the area, and bonfires scatter across the grounds. Even with the light rain, the ambiance is calm and peaceful as the music continues in the background.

When Sweetwater started their set, we decided to find a place closer to the stage. People were packed like sardines, but a group of friends moved over and invited us to join them. During our conversations, it felt like I have known them my whole life. I've come to realize we are all here for the same reason- Music and to escape reality.

The war has a lot of people messed up. We are all suffering from the loss of family and friends.

And for what?

Nothing will ever convince me that this war was necessary. I don't know how many of my male friends would express the anxiety of knowing they would be sent off to die as soon as they graduate.

College or die, that was their option.

We would sit in cars listening to the draft numbers. Our bodies were still with our breath held in our lungs, praying they didn't call someone we knew.

Of course, you have the guys who want to serve their country. I feel immense pride knowing that some people are willing to protect our freedom, but that was their choice. I'm proud of my brother, but I still feel the ache in my heart knowing he is over there. Whenever I hear a knock at the door, I fear someone will be standing there, ready to tell me my brother has died.

Some of the stories I heard today made me sick and filled me with worry knowing Daniel could meet the same horrid fate.

Happy thoughts, Gwen. Happy thoughts.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Rose taps on my shoulder. "Your turn."

With my hand on my chest, I try to stop my racing heart with controlled breathing. "Jesus Christ, Rose. I almost just peed myself."

I can hear her laughter continue as I scurry off to finally use the bathroom.

As Rose and I make our way back to the others, she wraps her arm around mine and says, "I want to apologize."

My brow cocks up, and my mind races trying to figure out what she could possibly be apologizing for. Before I can ask, she says, "I feel bad for putting you and Bobby in that position earlier today." The pointer finger of her free hand points upwards as a smile takes over her face. "But at the same time, I'm not."

My lips clamp together as I try to swallow my laughter. I avoid looking at Rose because I know if I do, I'll lose all control. "You're not making any sense, but thank you?"

"I'm so stoned. I feel like my brain is moving at turtle speed." Rose uses her shoulder to nudge me, and I can no longer hide my amusement. Laughter erupts from my chest, and she is quick to join in.

When we finally gain control of ourselves, Rose gently squeezes my arm. "Let me try that again. I'm sorry I was so abrupt, and Bobby should have been the one to tell you. However, I'm happy that everything is out in the open now. You both look really happy, and I'm truly delighted."

"Aw, look at you being a mush."

Rose lets go of my arm and swats at me. She misses and stumbles forward. Her lack of control caused us to break into another fit of giggles. "I'm serious, Gwen! I don't think I have ever seen Bobby smile as much as I have today. I'm happy about that."

Her words cause my heart to double in size, and my own smile pulls at my lips.

We continue to weave through the massive crowd, passing the line for the food tent. My stomach rumbles in protest, begging for some nutrients. Unfortunately, word has gotten out that they are running low and might need more to feed everyone. Luckily, we bought a few things to snack on, but I do not want to return to our tent. I refuse to miss the last few acts of the night and will have to wait until later to satisfy my hunger.

When we finally found the others, they were passed around another joint.

Shocking.

Even with glossy eyes, Bobby's good looks leave me breathless. The misting rain has his hair sticking to his brow and his white shirt clinging to his chiseled chest. 

God, he's handsome.

When I sit beside him, he pulls out a blanket and hands it to me. "I know you get cold easily."

My heart flips, and even the cool night breeze doesn't stop the heat coursing through my veins. "Thank you."

Like the gentleman he is, Bobby drapes the blanket over my shoulders, but I stop him. "Come on under with me. You're drenched."

We huddle together, and Bobby puts his arm around me. I rest my head against his shoulders and let out a content sigh.

I'm in heaven.

Our clothes might be wet, but the heat between us is undeniable. Bobby begins to trace circles on my thigh and kisses the top of my head. I will never get used to his small displays of affection; I've never experienced anything like it.

Today, for example, when we returned to the tent after our talk in the woods, he made sure to bandage up my foot. Yeah, I was hurt, but never in my life has someone grabbed my smelly foot and tenderly wrapped it up. Honestly, just his touch was enough to alleviate the pain.

His actions are always pure and genuine, and it's something I deeply admire about him.

Bobby grabs my hand, bringing me back to the present. "What are you thinking about?"

I cup Bobby's cheek with my free hand, his light stubble prickling my palm. "You."

"What about me?" He asks.

An overwhelming desire to be closer takes over, and before I know it, I'm straddling Bobby's sturdy legs. His hands rest on my bottom, and I can feel his length hardening. Knowing I have this effect on him only fuels my already burning fire.

Our gazes stay locked on to each other, neither of us blinking. It's as if our hearts are anchored and joining as one.

"Well, Bobby Walker," I say as I grind myself against him. I rest my forehead against him, bringing our lips a hair's length apart. The deep-chested moan that falls from his parted lips brings my confidence to unimaginable heights. "I was thinking about how incredible you are."

"Ugh, get a room!" Rose yells, and when me and Bobby look over at her, she has her hands covering her eyes. She lets out a theatrical heave, pretending she's about to vomit.

"Keep covering your eyes then, Rose. What me and my girl do is no concern to you."

Bobby has been very clear about his intentions, but no official title has been given to our relationship. Even hearing him say, "My girl," has my heart ready to burst free from my chest.

Rose takes a drag from her joint and slowly exhales, sending smoke into our faces. "I feel like we have already had this conversation today, Bobby. Did you even ask her, or are you just stating your claim?"

"Leave them alone, Rose." Mike takes a swig from the Boone's Farm wine he got by trading joints with a neighboring group. "I think it's beautiful."

Mike holds out the bottle, and I eagerly accept. I'm a sucker for cheap wine.

Rose goes to say something but is cut off by the announcement of the next act, Melanie Safka.

I quickly spin around in Bobby's lap, and he pulls me close before covering us with the blanket.

The mist has become a steady drizzle, and the moisture quickly seeps through the damp fabric. Goosebumps make their way across my body, and I take a sip from the bottle. The fruity notes dance across my tongue, and I silently pray that the alcohol will keep me warm.

When Melanie begins, I hang on to every note like a lifeline. A strong woman, not much older than me, sits in front of thousands of people with only her voice and her guitar.

Everyone fades to the background as her vibrato resonates through every cell of my body.

After four songs, Melanie sings the beginning words to one of my all-time favorite songs— Mr. Tambourine Man.

Her voice comes out shy, laced with anxiety. One would think this as a negative thing, but her rendition is powerful and laced with passion.

Candles and matches are lit in appreciation as she continues to sing her heart out and perfectly captures the song's story.

She was born to sing this song.

I have heard the words thousands of times and can't help but sing along. My body begins to sway with each strum of Melanie's guitar. Her rendition's beautiful mix of melody and spoken words have my eyes prickling with unshed tears.

Bobby tightens his arms around me, and I let my crying mix with the rain against my cheeks.

When Melanie finishes the final note, I close my eyes to embrace the overwhelming, raw emotions.

The magic of Woodstock continues to amaze me, and for the first time, I know I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.