When I stepped off the plane on that hot August night in Cairo and came face to face with the soldier holding a machine gun, I knew I was living the life I’d imagined since I began planning family vacations at age 11. I was 20 years old. Although a little scared, I was exactly where I wanted to be: in a foreign country, out of my comfort zone, perched on the edge of unknown experiences.
More than a few years have passed since that night in the Cairo airport, and it’s been a while since I’ve faced a gun-toting soldier. More recently, I’ve stared down the barrel of childbirth and parenthood and battled wild packs of boys bent upon household destruction. Along the way, I rode my bicycle across the country, read enough books to line every wall in my home, and picked up a respectable job teaching writing. I met the Love of My Life and lost the Cat of My Life. I moved to a house in the woods, but haven’t settled.
And always, I keep on writing. For me, writing is a form of deep travel, an opportunity to experience life many times over, wherever the journey brings me: to the mountains, to new and off-beat places, or to different historical eras. Whether you are an armchair traveler or a restless mover, or, like me, a combination of both, pull up a chair and come on in.
I live and write in Kittery Point, Maine, with my husband, son, two cats, and a series of expiring beta-fish.
I write about history as a history lover and not as a professional historian. While I will always try to document my sources informally, I always appreciate comments, corrections or additions to anything I post here.
You can find more of my writing at We Said Go Travel. Also, my essay “Hunting the wooly adelgid,” the winner of the 2010 Waterman Fund Alpine Essay contest, was also published in print in the December 2010 issue of Appalachia.
Contact me via the blog comments or at firstname.lastname@example.org.