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I would have done it, but...

By Maggie Turner

December 15, 1999

I would have done it, but...

Sometimes an idea will take me over. This morning I became fascinated with the idea of loving only the things I want to love. The concept boggles my mind. Love, in my life, has nothing at all to do with choice. It has nothing at all to do with the mind, with logic or with practicality. I love wantonly, without consideration. Love takes me into the realm of chaos. Love is a power I fear and cherish; it is equal parts pain and pleasure. Love is far too crucial to be left in the hands of choice.

I remember falling in love with a boy in my grade 5 class. That love was the source of dreams; it was a font of passion. My imagination was ignited and the world turned under a different sun. I became obsessed with this boy. If a snowball he threw hit me I felt a magical connection. In my fantasies he adored and worshipped me. In reality he thought not of me and I thought my heart would break. One evening, walking home from school with a girl friend, I confided my misery. To my horror she advised me that it was a foolish choice to love this boy. "Just stop loving him," she said. To her it seemed a simple matter. I had no idea what she was talking about then; I still don't.

Since that time my heart has taken me on many expensive journeys. In spite of the terrible cost of loving I am richer for it. I feel blessed that three of the five people I love beyond reason are still alive. The sadness of losing two loved ones is tempered by my gratitude at having been alive and on the planet earth while they lived. When one thinks about it, what are the odds of this happening? I have been fortunate.

It is a busy day, full of tiny little projects. Last week I noticed that a board on the fence was loose and swaying in the breeze. It took me until today to make my way out to the backyard to repair it. I decided to deliver the compost and empty tins to their respective containers for recycling on the same trip. Too many things to carry! But wait, I have been wearing the answer to my problem all along. You see I almost always wear overalls. They are great, but I digress. The matter at hand was a hammer, how to carry a hammer when my hands were full of potato peels and tins. Yes, my overalls have a hammer tag or whatever you call that handy little piece of material sewn into the leg. So with my hammer hanging from my leg and my pocket full of nails I proceeded to carry out all my chores in one trip.

My web site needed sprucing up once again. It evolves continually as I learn more about keeping an online journal and about web design. I read online journals every day, usually the same ones. These never ending stories captivate and comfort me. The individuals who write their lives online provide a glimpse into foreign realities without needing high drama or fame. Each day I can quietly slip in for a visit; I need not disturb the flow of the author's day, the author's thoughts. And yet, when I am moved to interact, to share a thought or to express appreciation or an opinion, I find a very real presence and warmth behind the daily entries. My Links can be accessed from the Journal page.



This evening we will be busy again. The plumbing under the kitchen sink is leaking; it is serious enough that the main water intake must be turned off. Attila, wrench in hand, is prodding and poking the damp dark regions of pipes and fittings. He is making his fixing noises, usually this means success. Attila's fixing noises consist of deep sighs, seldom does he feel moved to use more extreme forms of expression. My fixing noises are less diplomatic and have been known to cause offense. I am an X-rated repairwoman.


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