Love

A friend posted a bible passage in honour of Valentine's Day (I assume):  ‎"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."   I wonder what all that means.  It is a lovely sentiment, but I have trouble with the word always, not because my experience with love is so different, but my experience also tells me that Love Sometimes isn't exactly perfect.  Even when it's perfect for me.

Another friend posted a photograph of himself hobnobbing with Margaret Atwood, which made me jealous.  (Not in the ugly way, jealous, but the kinda-wishing-I-was-hobnobbing-with-Margaret-Atwood-too kind of way, jealous.)  I think Margaret Atwood is quite crazy, and sort of dislikeable (is that a word?), both of which are qualities I admire.

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I am reading (with every intention of returning to Ian MacEwan soon) Why We Broke Up, which is written from the perspective of a sixteen year old girl who is overcome with the need to write her ex-boyfriend a letter explaining all the reasons she had to dump him.  I had trouble staying focused on it when I began reading it last night.  My mind was distracted, swirling with mental pictures of the upcoming Italy trip -- because RW and I had just spent the evening talking about it.  But I think I like the premise of the book, though I may need to read backwards to make sure I got everything important.

I should like to write a letter to my boyfriend from when I was sixteen to tell him why we broke up.  Except oh, that's Shawn.

We did break up, though, when I was sixteen.  And eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty-four, and twenty-seven.  And there were good reasons every time.  Just that reasons to come back together were always better.  We haven't broken up for more than ten years now, so I think we mostly have it out of our systems, although I always threaten him with the fact that my next husband is going to be much more accommodating about sharing his razors.


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