I have always been blessed with a good memory. I can remember toys my parents kept in my crib. I can tell you about the hospital room I stayed in when I got the croup at the age of two. I can also tell you what treats we used to have at Valentine's Parties when I was three. But the truly memorable Valentine's Days were the ones where I had Valentines...objects of my affection.
The first Valentine I ever gave someone was HUGE. Not in the significance way of huge...the oversized huge way. I liked boy. I wanted boy to know that I liked him. I made 6 year old boy a large heart made of pink construction paper. It was a little lop-sided with lace trim and a large red silk flower glued to the center. I thought it looked pretty as it lay on my kitchen table.
The problem was with the delivery system.
At our kindergarten class, each child had a white paper bag with their name written on it. These were taped to the bottom tray of the chalkboard in alphabetical order. They were not made for meaningful valentines. These bags were made for "Mom made me give EACH kid a valentine" sort of valentines. Not made for over-the-top displays of affection.
So my token of love sat akwardly atop his paper bag. A row of neat, nice, white bags. One large heart. To sum it up...boy was not impressed. Boy was embarassed, blushed and trashed heart.
Fast forward 11 years. Not empty years. Years with guy crushes, boys who are friends, and lots of girlfriends. Years spend making cards, sending flowers, and getting dressed up and going to movies to celebrate together. You see, I have always felt that Valentine's Day has always been my own personal holiday. Not a day to feel pressured into conforming to societal norms of how I "should" express love to special people in my life. Not a day to dwell in dark bitterness, paint my fingernails black and reject all things heart-shaped. The "day of love" was always a day to appreciate those whom I held in high regard, and to let them know.
Then there came the high school sweetheart. Boy who was way-over-the-top in his demonstration on any level. Boy who left me flowers on my car at work after the first date. Boy who was writing in Sharpie while I was only ready to pencil him in. This time, he made his heart too big. After 11 months of near suffocation, and a week before prom, boy blushed and trashed my heart. (so I asked his brother to prom...oh sweet revenge.)
And after two more years of friend-centered V-days. Enter THE boy, THE Valentine, THE love. Our first Feb 14th, he handed out handfulls of kisses and hand-made Valentines to all my friends to give to me throughout the day of classes. Our second, He had roses sent to me from South Carolina, where he was living and working. Our third, heart-shaped pancakes in bed. Fourth, candle-lit dinner waiting on me when I walked in from work. Fifth, an hour-long massage from a reflexologist.
This is our sixth Valentine's Day together, and out of all of the ways he has shown he loves me. All the construction paper and Elmer's glue. What means the most is that he makes me free enough to be comfortable in our relationship, to feel the weight and depth of our commitment, and to know it is freedom, not chains. His best gift is the knowledge that he won't trash my heart.
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