HerStry publishes one Personal Essay every Wednesday. Weekly Personal Essays are a way for writers to tell the stories they want to tell. There are no rules. No themes. Nothing is off limits. For essay submissions check out our guidelines.
We stand together near the bus station, inhaling the smell of cow shit, watching miniature dust devils swirling around in the street like tiny tornados. Two hippie imposters, my boyfriend Don and I, wait for a Greyhound bus to take us from Stockton to Pasadena, California.
Read MoreHe’s never been there before, but my husband drives through Arizona like he’s a native. Our kids bicker in the backseat as he squints into the Southwestern sunshine.
The highway carves a groove into the hills. Forests of saguaro fade to arid plains. Endless interstate stretches through hours of tanned earth, unfurling at the feet of piney, snow-capped forests. Our rental car pushes higher and higher. We tug layers over jeans and t-shirts.
Read MoreWhen I was a child, each summer, my mother took my sisters and me on a journey westward from our home in New Jersey to Minnesota, where my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles lived. Although my sisters and I delighted in the prospects of seeing our relatives once again, what pleased us most was the train ride that lay ahead.
Read More“So you’re the matriarch,” the bartender says as I join my daughter and granddaughter at the bar for a sunset drink.
Read MoreThere is an old saying that until you lose something, you don’t really appreciate it—even though there are things like a lousy friend, a cold, or a broken-down car that you might be glad to be rid of. Two of my favorite things were walking and hiking, things I lost the ability to do when I had a stroke nearly three years ago.
Read MoreThis was where my family had recently settled after we became refugees for a second time during the 1974 war. On the 13th, one day before I departed for the US for my higher education under a private sponsorship, I packed my suitcase. Then, I carefully selected a few photographs of my family and of myself to take with me to America. The same day I was packing, my mother gave me a few gifts. These gifts became my most valued possessions, and I am proud to say I still have them.
Read MoreI load up my motorcycle on a foggy morning and wind my way through the Sierras and out of California. I cut across Nevada then ride along the Arizona-Utah border. After days passing throughsage bush valleys, sandy deserts, and arid foothills, I rode over the Continental Divide this morning, my fifth day on the road. I arrive at a diner in Saguache, Colorado, a small historic mining town in the San Luis Valley.
Read MoreI am getting ready to travel again because my husband is living in Copenhagen for work. People describe our situation as “so cool.” I wish they would stop. There is nothing cool about a long distance marriage. And I’m certain the “so cool” people have never donelong-distance with a spouse working twelve hour days in a time zone nine hours ahead. These are people who have never spent a significant amount of time on a plane going back and forth. Our family planning has been suspended. My life has become a waiting room in perpetuity.
Read MoreWhen I first began to tell people about my plans to take a solo trip to Iceland, I was met with a lot of surprise, and even a little resistance. I expected some of this. Almost as soon as I announced that I had booked my flight, people began to voice concern over my traveling alone—a young woman—to a foreign country.
Read MoreSunday in Athens — most businesses remained closed. The streets deserted by people, energy, magic.
My travel partner and I walked the major thoroughfare. We passed shop after shop; each metal security door shut tight, its corrugated surface tagged with bold words and images.
Read MoreWhen I was a child, we didn’t travel very often. I didn’t even board a plane until I was 11 years old. We would go to cabins in the woods for a couple nights or so, but they were always within a few hours of home.
Read MoreI had dreamed about going to Europe since I was eight years old. I specifically have always wanted to go to Paris. This was a dream I held onto and when I was sixteen I made a master plan to spend a year in Europe once I turned eighteen. I did research and detailed the plan to my parents who said that if I met my monetary goal they would match it. But then I did not find anywhere that wanted to hire a sixteen-year old and so the plan was put aside. I still vowed that I would see Paris before I turned twenty-four.
Read MoreI drove to 40 states during the month of November. I drove so many miles it took two rental cars due to oil change needs. Somehow I managed to finish $1k under my Kickstarter budget (thank you ramen noodles). I met so many people that names and faces began to blur. Thank god I recorded everything.
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