An archive of all of the personal essays we’ve published at Hippocampus Magazine over the years.
We dug into the ground, uprooting the shrubs and tossing them aside. We dug out stones and roots, de-housed spiders the size of plump ravioli and worms like fleshy shoelaces. Three feet into the ground we found an arrowhead…
He was six feet tall, unyielding yet benevolent (plush stuffed with foam pellets), the clean eternal green of AstroTurf, a gorgeous anomaly at a depressing little tag sale
He should have been brushing dirt from his mouth or cobwebs from his eyes that afternoon, not sipping coffee in a white T-shirt and characteristic jeans.
Some went back to bartending. Some went to the pawnshop to hawk whatever knee-jerk purchases were intended to signify status. I went back to the hotel to work as a doorman and regain my benefits.
The song played in a continuous loop, providing not only the music for all three of us, but also a swirling psychedelic picture on the computer screen for Scott and Mike to watch until I had dinner on the table.
The narrative of my own musical lineage … still grows in intricate, intertwining branches and swelling crescendos in bold, arpeggiated chords toward what I hope will someday be a magnificent finale.
On a cold, dull Sunday in January I began studying charts, getting to get to know my patients before making rounds as part of my geriatrics fellowship in inpatient internal medicine.
I was the kind of nine year old who proudly invited my best friend over to Dad’s place without taking into consideration that most kids my age did not have fathers like mine.
My three children, whom I birthed, look nothing like me, thank goodness. I am a six footer, WASP-y, with a long face, a crooked nose, and histrionic hair…
Obsessive-compulsive disorder is sometimes described as a hiccup, or loop, in the brain. Instead of thoughts moving smoothly one to the next, a person with OCD gets stuck on a “bad,” or threatening thought…
