Remembering Love

I went to buy a Valentine's card today for the man in my life. What an endeavor! I wanted to buy one that said enough, but not too much; one that was sentimental but not sappy; one that showed my love but didn't splatter it all over in splashes of red and pink; one that was fun but not goofy. It's a tall order, I know. Most of the cards are for husbands and wives, children or that "someone special" (who might that be, exactly?). It was difficult to find a card for my relationship that didn't seem too generic or too much.


I thought about making my own (with markers and glitter and heart stickers) but then I thought that might be cheesy. I thought about just getting a blank card and writing in my own thoughts (I can write better than most of the cards I found), but I couldn't find any. I thought about just forgetting about the whole thing and, perhaps telling my boyfriend how I feel about him in my own words, but I do that anyway. And I even thought about conveniently forgetting that Valentine's Day exists.

But then I remembered that Valentine's Day is not only this commercial holiday created to sell cards and candy and stuffed animals and jewelry. It is really about love. We are so busy or numb or distracted or angry or forgetful or blind or preoccupied or selfish or bored in our daily lives. Sometimes we need a day dedicated specifically to love to help us remember how to share it, how to feel it. So I gave in to the commercialism and I settled on a card. I even went a little crazy with the chocolates and a gift bag (with hearts all over it!) and red tissue paper.

It won't matter tomorrow, when I give my gift, how it looks or what the card says. What will matter is the thought, the action; that I took the time to search for, choose and wrap up (so nicely!) a gift for someone I love. What will matter is that I love him.