My mother always bought us treats for Valentine’s Day. In the days when we were so far below the poverty line that WalMart seemed like luxury shopping, we would get tiny, waxy boxes of candy, each one with a different cartoon animal on the front, painstakingly picked to match each of us four children. I would eat my 3 pieces of awful chocolate slowly, making them last as long as possible.
I had an aversion to commitment during my high school years, and so always found myself single on this most glorious of romantic holidays; I never really was upset by this. I was enveloped in love, and I knew it.
Eventually, my sisters and I would be each other’s valentines. We would pick gifts we knew the other person would really enjoy, such as a cute shirt or a really awesome bag; one time I even found an umbrella shaped like a duck’s head.
Jason is chronically unromantic. For my birthday, his big surprise was mating the socks so I wouldn’t have to. Valentine’s Day is not something he is going to excel at, no matter how much I wish. That is ok; I love my knight, though his shining armor is more jeans and ratty t-shirt; his steed a computer desk chair instead of a white horse.
Because this day is not just about the love for your partner. It is about love for your family, your friends, your children. Take advantage of this day to tell them how glad they are in your lives.
And, dear special internet friends, I want to say this: Thanks for reading. Thanks for being out there. Thanks for writing about your lives and letting me read them.
Happy Valentine’s day to you and yours.