Valentines Day 2010

“I’m so anti-Valentines Day this year.” grumbled my husband. “It’s a completely senseless holiday. Weren’t people executed on Valentines Day?”


“It doesn’t have a pleasant history.” I reply.

It’s Saturday, the day before the big V day. All the stores are acting like this is an urgent last minute affair now. If you wish to save your love life, this is the moment when you must step up to the plate and pay your dues.

I’ve scarcely done anything for the holiday. Lately it’s as if all the verve I once had for celebrations of any kind has dwindled down to near nothingness.

Twenty years ago times were far more challenging. I had just barely been released from the mental ward at the hospital. The same day my infant daughter was released from pediatrics. Her severe case of pneumonia had significantly, if not miraculously, cleared. Although we were a far cry from being fine, I was overjoyed to have my family back together again.

One year later, it seemed appropriate to celebrate. Before picking our kids up from the sitter, my husband and I snuck out to a local supermarket to buy our kids some fun things to show them our love. Balloons were a must. What small child doesn’t enjoy balloons? We bought them little coloring books, a puzzle for my son, a cuddly little rabbit for my daughter. At home we laid everything out as if a second Christmas had arrived, then went to get our kids.

I will never forget the excitement of our two little kids as they saw what was waiting for them. My daughter, who had just barely begun walking, did a crazy tottering dance while hugging the rabbit. No one could get enough of the helium balloons and the wonder of how they managed to so stubbornly defy gravity.

Suddenly, with the passing of that one Valentines day, a tradition was born. Year, after year, I treated the holiday as something far more than just a time to exchange flowers and candy. Our kids always got clothes, a necessity made nicer in the form of a gift. They always got at least one toy as well. Candy and balloons were a given. In my mind we were celebrating the reunion of our family at a time of year when we had thought, perhaps, our family was lost.

Now, nineteen years later, two of our kids are gone off to school. One will soon be married. Only one remains at home. Things have changed.

I figured there was nothing to be done, or worried about for that matter. For my part, I bought a lot of candy, sent a lot of it off to our college student clan, then kept some for the few of us here. Clearly my husband had no intention of doing anything. He’d made enough comments over the last number of days that I didn’t have the will or inclination to argue.

Saturday night he decides he is bored enough to go check out the video store. Rather uncharacteristically, he doesn’t ask me if I want to go. I chalk it up to the fact that I haven’t been feeling well. Maybe he was trying to be considerate.

A few minutes later Scrooge shows up with a dozen red roses. He shrugs at me with a smile. “Well, I figured I may as well do something even if it is a stupid holiday.”

Stupid holiday or not, he’s made this one for me. Once again, I remember how much I love him.