My Soulmate, a Hell’s Angel

My soulmate. He looks like a Hell's Angel. Rough around the edges. Big white beard. Big broad shoulders. Claims he doesn't care about anything, except for me and the kids.

We met at the second Woodstock concert in Saugerties, New York, and instantly fell in love. Not kidding. Not really love at first sight. It was more like love at fourth of fifth sight. We had crossed paths in Westchester County, New York a handful of times in our youth. We just discovered another time, just the other night, when we were in the same place at the same time. Always close, but still so far. We had no idea we were destined to be together for the rest of our lives.

During the concert, the stars and planets aligned, and the magic happened. The angel choir sung as fireworks exploded. Again, in the same place together at the same time, but this time, we saw each other. We found each other. We had arrived home.

We joined together in every sense during that concert, and we have not been separate since then. Always together. Always in love. Always friends. Occasionally mad, but always quick to forgive.

I married my Hell's Angel, and I have been in heaven since then. We have created beautiful children together. We have carved out a life together, my soulmate and I. We never feel lonely, and we have endless love.

This is what having a soulmate is like.