Kacie McGeary

Five months ago, I left familiarity to chase curiosity. To test my definition of home and follow new conversations. To see if I could find pieces of myself scattered elsewhere. Anywhere, if I looked hard enough. I thought that this was the scariest decision of my life. I thought it was the choice that would shape my … Read More

I’m in a shed in the middle of nowhere. There is a small wood-burning stove that is falling short of its only duty, and the girl next to me just pulled out an extra pair of socks to place on her feet. The wind has been howling for hours. I’m on my third cup of … Read More

I have missed four important birthdays, the wedding invitation of my best friend of twenty-three years, my sister’s favorite holiday, early morning breakfasts and late night porch-sits, scribbled notes left on bathroom mirrors, weekend hikes in the afternoon, coffee cup scandals, wool socks over pant legs, sloshing streets, and the smell of pine. I will … Read More

On my second day in Indonesia, I was handed a phrase. I wasn’t quite sure how to dissect it, or whether or not it had any implications that would affect me, but after four weeks, I am beginning to understand its meaning. We were standing in an open kitchen, wrapped in the heat of Canggu, … Read More

Talking to strangers has never come naturally to me. I have spent the majority of my life dodging small talk and mastering the art of avoiding eye contact. For some reason this fear is heightened on airplanes. I typically shy from all conversation until I have my carry-on in hand and my destination in sight, … Read More

Raised in the foothills of Northern California, I grew up with dirt under my fingernails and scrapes on my knees. I loved to climb anything that I could grip—trees, rocks, animals, and structures that stood in the queue of decay. The results weren’t always pretty, but I found a sense of rush as I moved, … Read More