My hands grip the steering wheel at 10 and 2, my eyes focus on the road, but my mind reels back through the years to seventh grade when holding hands was a big deal.
Driving Home by Risa Nye
Category: Essays
An archive of all of the personal essays we’ve published at Hippocampus Magazine over the years.
Long Time Gone: September 27, 2010 by Sheila Grace Stuewe
Instead of funding my 401K, I invest in concert tickets…. I know it seems absurd to spend money to find a way to escape from it. But I’m doing it anyway.
Rocking My Baby by Nancy Davis Kho
From the moment the baby was born, music took a backseat to nursing pads, sleep training and nasal aspirators.
Stone Cold Fox by Melanie Malinowski
I love Steven Tyler. He sucks the marrow out of my bones. I liquefy, burn. I would crawl 10 miles over broken glass to lie naked in his shadow.
I Hate Your Favorite Band by Fred Osuna
…it’s possible to like both the Beatles and the Stones, you know.
Grey Seal by MT Cozzola
Last night I met up with an old song. It had been years, but we recognized each other on sight.
An Evening of Extraordinary Circumstance by Heather Rick
Good punk rock should pummel you like a panic attack – forcing your glands to scream adrenaline, bringing a sour sweat and a manic itch to the skin.
The Flip Side by Lori A. May
He was a record rep for the area promoting new releases to local music shops, handing out review copies to the press, and coordinating with venues before, during, and after shows. We became friends when I was a review junkie…
A Piece for Assorted Lunatics by Anne Clendening
The Dark Side of the Moon. Brilliant. Psychedelic. Mad genius. My brother and I would sit on the floor, fixated on the iconic graphic on the cover: A prism with a spectrum of colors emerging.
Toothbrush by MT Cozzola
“You have got to be kidding me.” We’re standing in Mom’s bathroom, my brother David and I, tugging on opposite ends of a toothbrush. Until two days ago, we called this Dad’s bathroom, even years after he died.
