Because I have always been surrounded by lots of boys, Valentine's Day has always been a really good day for me...
Beginning with the first man I ever loved - My Daddy. I never knew what to expect from his whimsical, eclectic valentine gifts. Dad was color-blind and loved pretty, shiny, okay I'll say it...gaudy things. Most importantly, we shared a deep abiding love for sugar - preferably covered in chocolate, but acceptable in any form.
Dad's gifts ranged from a yellow-flowered clock with fake bees on the second hand...to huge boxes of chocolate that were meant to be shared, then inhaled, by him. As I became older, he began a trend of buying me music boxes. His favorites were little ceramic 'robins' that now sit on my dresser and sing to me spontaneously, just to remind me how lucky I am to be my Daddy's daughter.
I even scored the occasional card from my brothers. But truthfully only because Mom bought a card for them and forced them to give it to me. Of course, they took all the credit. Not only that, they also always managed to find the few chocolates that I had carefully hidden from my Daddy. (It's no wonder I've grown up to be a bitter old lady who hoards chocolate.)
There were random, spontaneous valentines along the way. Like the card I received when I was 15 from the older brother of one of my very best friends, sent all the way from the Land of College. It read, "Roses are red, violets are blue, and hoo-boy would I love to makeout with you". I asked him about it recently. Of course he had no recollection of propositioning an underage nubile girl. I've still got the card to keep me warm in my old age. Or to be used as blackmail for playoff tickets.
And then there is Dick. Or Dick-in-a-Glasses-Case, as it were...
Beginning with the first man I ever loved - My Daddy. I never knew what to expect from his whimsical, eclectic valentine gifts. Dad was color-blind and loved pretty, shiny, okay I'll say it...gaudy things. Most importantly, we shared a deep abiding love for sugar - preferably covered in chocolate, but acceptable in any form.
Dad's gifts ranged from a yellow-flowered clock with fake bees on the second hand...to huge boxes of chocolate that were meant to be shared, then inhaled, by him. As I became older, he began a trend of buying me music boxes. His favorites were little ceramic 'robins' that now sit on my dresser and sing to me spontaneously, just to remind me how lucky I am to be my Daddy's daughter.I even scored the occasional card from my brothers. But truthfully only because Mom bought a card for them and forced them to give it to me. Of course, they took all the credit. Not only that, they also always managed to find the few chocolates that I had carefully hidden from my Daddy. (It's no wonder I've grown up to be a bitter old lady who hoards chocolate.)
There were random, spontaneous valentines along the way. Like the card I received when I was 15 from the older brother of one of my very best friends, sent all the way from the Land of College. It read, "Roses are red, violets are blue, and hoo-boy would I love to makeout with you". I asked him about it recently. Of course he had no recollection of propositioning an underage nubile girl. I've still got the card to keep me warm in my old age. Or to be used as blackmail for playoff tickets.
And then there is Dick. Or Dick-in-a-Glasses-Case, as it were...
For 38 years, this man has been laying his carefully created and/or chosen Valentine's Day sacrifices at my bunioned feet. Never a miss, never once failing to warm the cockles of my heart. Well, except for the year I received a dozen roses from a guy I had recently dumped. When Dickie saw the the roses, he called the guy to thank him. He called him collect. From me. Beyond tacky, I know. I still pray for grace and forgiveness.
One of my favorite valentine offerings from the Dickman came shortly after we discovered we were pregnant with our first son. He sent me a vase stuffed full of baby's breath with little red felt hearts. The card read, "Our baby's breath will soon be real". Yeah, he's good.
But there are no valentines that get to a girl...at least this girl...like the homemade, Elmered-glued valentines I received from my beautiful boy-children.
The cards were precious; but it was all about seeing those sweet little shyly smiling faces proudly gifting me with their works of art, that always managed to swamp me. Every single valentine masterpiece now sits in a box on the floor of my closet. From time to time, I will stumble upon them when I'm looking for something elusive like the camera tripod or my swimsuit cover. And rediscovering them is like receiving them for the first time. My favorite, my funny Valentines."Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved."
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