Stories (38/0)
The Fear of Drowning
It was the summer of 1998 when freedom really started shouting my name. I was fifteen years old and landlocked. My circumstance that particular year was not any different from the years before—I was and always had been a country kid; stranded on a bumpy lane with no access to social life. But that summer, my skin itched to escape. Freshman year was done and over with, and I was restless. But the road to independence still seemed like light-years away.
By Maegan Heil3 years ago in Confessions
Some people are dog people
Before we had the home we do now, Sean and I lived out of a camper. At the time, it made sense—we were traveling cross country for work and didn’t have money to rent a place we weren’t going to use. One July, we were parked at my grandparents’, next to Great Uncle Herman, who was visiting from Vegas and also staying in a camper. Sean and I had gone down the road to watch the Baroda fireworks when I felt my phone vibrate. It was Uncle Herman. He’d seen our cat roaming in the yard, but not to worry, he’d put her back inside for us.
By Maegan Heil3 years ago in Petlife