Chicken Soup for the Soul

What’s your favourite childhood memory?

Is it a routine thing you did with a parent? Is it an annual family tradition? Or a specific moment in time? Is it the noise of the first pretend concert you did for your parents in the living room? Or the quiet of being in your mom’s arms on a sick day? Is it the day you first met your sibling in a hospital room? Or is it weekly dinners at grandma’s house? It is a big moment, a celebration, a vacation? Or is it a small, tiny, inconsequential one?

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Marriage: The Fine Art of Not Committing Murder


“You look like a princess Mummy!” says the spawn.

I turn around and look at the spouse. Our eyes meet, and we burst out laughing.

She says this while I am squatting over a dead bug, inspecting it for vital signs using her blue polka dot flip flop. My pajama pants are hiked up and the bottom part is wet because I was mowing the lawn earlier (yes we have a backyard now…more on that another time), I’ve been cleaning, my hair hasn’t been washed in two days and in summary, the only princess I could possibly look like is Princess Fiona from Shrek after sunset.

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Moving a Dead Body

Many years ago, while walking through my university campus with a male friend on a starry, moonlit night, we passed by a dark, secluded spot. I leaned into him and whispered, “Damn. This would be a great spot to dump a dead body”.

In spite of, or possibly because of, my knowledge of prime dead body drop-off locations, that boy decided to spend the rest of his life with me. And to this day, he expresses his disbelief at that comment.

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A Pen is Mightier Than a Sword

Four years ago, I decided that while I was great and perfectly sufficient as the focal point of my own existence, I needed something more. I needed to have a footprint bigger than the one I had at the time, to make an impact or contribute to an effort that was bigger than my journey, to be awakened by something more than just my daily 7 am alarm.

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