Whether we want to admit it or not, we have at one time or another held the bow or received the arrow of jealousy. It’s human nature.

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“She’s such a show-off!”

“Look at her, she’s showing off.”

“She’s always showing off in front of everyone else.”

“Don’t be a show-off, dear. No one likes a show-off.”

I can hear these expressions in my head from childhood. I can’t pinpoint who said it about whom, but it was always one girl saying about another girl who was doing something that someone in the group couldn’t do. Or, it might have been…

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I learned to drive a John Deere tractor when I was eight or nine years old. Spending summers on my grandparent’s farm, I used to drive the noisy, green machine up and down long rows of freshly cut hay as the old wagon and loader tagged along behind. It was heavenly. Hot summer days, not a cloud in the sky and singing at the top of my lungs in harmony with the engine. Yes, with the engine. My grandparents were on the wagon or walking alongside pitching hay. …

Face to face with mental illness.

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I have always thought of September as a fresh start.

Summer days waned, holidays ended, and the ads on TV touted “back to school in style”. This meant a new school bag and pencil case when I was in elementary school, along with new running shoes and perhaps a few new tops and maybe some bell bottoms.

I looked forward to September. September meant new beginnings. A chance to reinvent ourselves. That moment of entering school on the first day of classes was filled with anticipation. “Who will be my teacher? Will I have…

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Asking the hard questions.

My husband and I celebrated 30 years of marriage this year. Thirty-six years together if you count the years of dating prior to the formal “I Do” in front of witnesses. But I knew that we would be together forever well-before that date in June 1990. I knew it in my gut on a cold winter day in March 1984 at the corner of Cavendish and Fielding, as I was walking home from my aerobics class. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was already cold, but the shivers that went through my body were enough to stop…

How this pandemic reminded me that I’m still fighting a war.

It started on May 11, 2020. I distinctly remember the day. I felt fine when I woke up, but I knew that something was different. By 11 am, I was in the basement, dripping with sweat, nauseous, and could barely stand. My muscles hurt; my back was sore; I was exhausted. It continued for days, weeks, through the month of June.

I started to lose weight. My eating habits changed. The family noticed that I was cooking differently. I no longer craved sugar. I no longer gazed longingly at the jar of peanut butter. June came and went and the…

Marnie Meikle

Storyteller. Volunteer. Recovering communications employee. Wife, mother, friend taking a leap of faith. Admitting that writing is in her blood.

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