She flings open my bedroom door with so much gusto it rattles the hinges. This is the first time since I’ve moved back that she hasn’t knocked.
Lighting of the Figures by Emily Urness
Category: Essays
An archive of all of the personal essays we’ve published at Hippocampus Magazine over the years.
Without You by Milena Nigam
In 1982, my parents divorce, and my mom, sister, and I move to a small house in West Concord, at the time a working class town twenty miles west of Boston. I am eight years old.
They Had Three Daughters by Andrea Della Monica
Italian grandmothers certainly did not smoke. They cooked elaborate meals on Sundays. … Smoking was for gin mills, not ladies in house dresses.
Perpetual Care by Mary Ann Bragg
There’s an old, neglected smallpox cemetery in the national park in my town that you have to know someone who knows someone who knows where it is…
The Great Unknown by Samuel Chamberlain
They call these divorce boats, Jim says from the passenger seat, referring to the canoe strapped to the car’s roof.
I Am Strong Because She Needs Me by Steph Auteri
“DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN,” one commenter pleaded after the piece went live. I imagined her down on her knees, white-knuckled, clutching the hem of my pajama top …
A Lack of Buoyancy by Bonnie Losak
One hundred and thirty ten- and eleven-year-olds piled onto three Greyhound buses that bounce and jolt their way north on I-95, heading for Orlando.
Stakeholders by David M. Novick
Back in the carefree halcyon days of my early years in medicine, there were only a few major hassles…
Tiny Relics by Kim Koehler
Since my daughter was born four years ago, she has been hospitalized for two open-heart surgeries and six heart catheterizations. Today is number seven.
Second Nature by Patricia Perry Donovan
I tossed both duffels (how light we traveled now) into the pickup’s bed, dogged by the sheriff’s warning: “An order of protection isn’t a bullet-proof vest.”
