Is Valentine's Day Overrated?

 

 

I’ve always thought that Valentine’s Day was overrated. I mean really, do you have to have a special day to say that you love your sweetheart? I don’t think so. My sweetheart and I have been married almost twenty years now and we tell each other every day that we love each other; most of the time, we say the words, but we demonstrate it too. She brings a fresh hot steaming cup of coffee to wherever I’m sitting every morning; she brushes her cheek against mine, and smiles at me with that look that I know she gives to no one else. I make up the bed because I’m the last to get out of it, I bag up the trash without being asked, I help her carry her things to the door when she leaves from home, and we give each other a huge hug before we’re out of the door. She’s my girlfriend, my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me, so why do we need one day each year to make a big fuss over our love. We tell each other “I love you” every day, and if I didn’t say it yet today, “I love you Sweetie”.

   I suppose it’s the candy makers, the valentine card manufacturers, and the floral industry that perpetuate the necessity for everyone to single out this day to convey our love and affection. I’m sure they sell enormous amounts of all three for this special day. Actually, Cheryl and I have agreed that none of them are necessary; in fact, she encourages me to buy candy on the day after Valentines when it is at half-price and she always discourages me from spending money on flowers. In any case, she is not that fond of candy and knows that I am buying it for myself instead of her anyway. We usually do exchange cards, but if we didn’t, we wouldn’t care. Our love isn’t measured by candy and cards, or flowers on a single day, it’s calculated by the way we behave toward each other every day of our lives. We aren’t perfect, but we really try to make each other feel loved and appreciated.
   I should say that Valentines day might mean more than you think to some other members of your family. When my oldest daughter, Mendy, was a little girl, I gave her and her Mom a box of chocolates. Hers was a miniature of the big box and it had a big pink bow across the top. I actually bought the candy before Valentines Day and delivered it on time with a special card. As a Dad, I just wanted to let her know that I loved her too. She recently informed me that the box of candy meant more to her than I ever knew; it made her feel special and important in a way that only a little girl could understand about her Dad.
   Occasionally, some inadvertant event takes place that none of us are prepared for. Several years ago, while I was recovering from open-heart surgery, it snowed just before Valentines Day. It was brutally cold and promised to be a miserable Valentine’s Day. Cheryl had made a heart-shaped cake to take to work and share with her friends. Her hands were full as she started for the garage door, so I grabbed the cake and hustled it out to the car in front of her. As she followed, she closed the door behind her to keep the house warm for me. My surgery had been around Halloween and I was recovering nicely, but I was still weak. I kissed her goodbye and waved as she drove out the drive and headed down the street. I could see my breath fogging as I closed the garage door and turned to get back in the warm house.
   It was locked! And I was locked out of the house! Somehow, with her hands full and in a hurry to leave, she had still managed to follow her habit of locking the door behind her. Now, consider that I was standing in my flannel pajamas with nothing on but a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of furry house shoes to keep me warm. And it was cold. No cell phone, no phone in the garage and no extra keys hidden in the garage to get me back in. It was early morning and I had not shaved, brushed my teeth or even combed my hair before I stepped out the door. My options were few; Cheryl would not arrive at work for 15-20 minutes and I really didn’t know the neighbors that well, and it was too cold to just stay in the garage for a long period of time. I tucked my pajama pants legs into my house shoes to cover my bare feet, found an old pair of cotton gloves in the garage and headed out the door. My office was only six blocks away and it would, at least, be warm there. I trudged through the snow and slush and thought to myself “Happy Valentines Sweetheart, I hope you are enjoying your cake.” After a few minutes, I slipped into my office and asked a friend to drive me out to Cheryl’s workplace, so I could get keys for my house. She thoroughly examined me, stifled an urge to burst out laughing and agreed to help me. She dropped me off at the front door of Cheryl's office building and I shuffled inside.
   I managed to slip through the main lobby and gain access into the elevator alone. When I stepped onto the third floor lobby I stood pathetically, as the vagrant I was. They have probably never seen a sorrier-looking character call at the front desk of her office. The receptionist gauged me carefully, noting my unusual garb, and cautiously inquired what I might possibly need from their company. Her hand seemed poised over a secret alarm button to summon the armed guards. As I explained that I was Cheryl’s husband, I could envision her brain telling her, “Sure Buster, and I’m the Queen of England”; but she finally agreed to call for my bride. She warily spoke into the phone, ”Cheryl, your husband is here to see you” as she cut her narrowed eyes toward me.
   Cheryl came right out, not knowing what to expect, but thinking that I was bringing her a Valentine surprise. One look at me and she knew exactly what had happened. We laughed as I told her the details; the receptionist at last removed her hand from the button and breathed a sigh of relief. My Valentine gave me the car keys and the house keys and I was finally able to drive home and get back into our warm and cozy home.
   If I had been waiting for Valentines Day so my true love could affirm her love; I would have been in a world of hurt. I knew she loved me; that she didn’t intend to lock me out of the house, or cause me to have to walk six blocks in the snow. She didn’t plan my discomfort, in fact, she assuaged my distress as soon as she arrived home from work, by making me some of her world famous hot chocolate. I still buy half-price candy the day after Valentines Day, and we usually exchange a card on Valentines Day. And don’t forget that you may need to include your children, so they can feel special too. But Cheryl and I show our love to each other every day, and that’s the way it should be. After almost twenty years, my betrothed still brings me that steaming hot cup of coffee every morning, and I can’t remember a day that she doesn’t look over at me and say, ”Have I told you today that I love you?” I think she means it. I know I do.