Last weekend our three children and their partners were all under one roof with us. They traveled from Florida, Virginia and close by to be here. It’s few and far between when we can convene to drink coffee, eat stacked enchiladas and revel in talking — that slow, languorous way you wake up with others tucked away in your home.
My kids grew up with you through this column.
We even managed to fit in a family wiener roast with my sisters and the entire family. When everyone can come, there are 50-plus in attendance. We had roughly 40 people milling around on my city lot on a warm Saturday evening. My heart was bursting.
This will be the last column I’ll write for The Bargain Hunter. My decision to stop this space was mine alone. In my gut I knew I had run the course I was meant to run. I leave knowing I am content with what I’ve written here each week. I wouldn’t change one word I’ve written.
But I’m not done. I will continue to write, possibly deeper and more expanded, on the platform Substack. Maybe I’ll film videos and talk in depth. Maybe I’ll do a podcast. Maybe I’ll finish "TOÑO LIVES part 2." I have ideas that are roiling around in my head. It was time to step away and wrench some different words out of my brain.
George and I are well. He is back to work redoing the little garage he bought in Plain Township. Maybe we will live there someday and enjoy a one-story home, the kind that doesn’t have four levels and an upstairs bathroom. Maybe we will move to Mexico to spend time with his parents, slowly dipping sweet bread into hot Nescafé, unwrapping tender tamales with chicken and verde. Maybe someday soon, the current chaos will die down, and we won’t be forced to make terrifying choices for safety.
I am tremendously thankful George has pulled through quintuple bypass surgery and that I can hug him each morning as we quietly discuss the day, despite the things lurking outside our door.
Thank you for all the many positive emails and letters I’ve received over the years. There were pockets of Holmes County that had been cheering my words on for a very long time. To the ones who recently messaged me to tell me Sundays won’t be the same without opening the paper to my column, know that you made me tear up. I have read each word you sent me. You kept me writing.
And for those who didn’t agree with me, I wrote for you too, especially for you.
You can find me on Substack writing under @MelissaHerrera, where my publication is titled "Missy Uncensored." Subscribe and you’ll get me straight into your email inbox one to two times per week.
I won’t say goodbye because I’m not going anywhere. The online world has made reaching each other very easy. Just know I have loved writing each column every week of my 15 years in this paper. They were love letters from my heart.
Sending love and signing off.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.
