Valentine's Day

Valentine’s Day

Looking across the kitchen table at my husband, my Valentine. He’s clueless. He has no idea this is anything beyond a crappy Monday morning. He’s right, it is a crappy Monday morning.

The snow, supposed to be “a dusting,” dusted ten inches. He was getting ready to go out and start up the snow blower as he drank his coffee staring at the TV news.

I could have gotten his attention if I’d shaped his eggs like hearts or spread chocolate on his toast, but I didn’t want to rub it in his face. Well, not this early when he would take it seriously. I’ll do something later when we can laugh it off.

But as I sat there, I was a little sad about it. Sure we’ve been married a while, over the honeymoon stage I guess. Even a single rose would do, something...

Shaking it off, I decided after dinner I’d spring my valentine on him. He’ll be surprised and apologize and we can laugh about how some days he doesn’t even know what day it is. Then we’ll have a lovely night, and I’ll surprise him with the chocolate cake I made, because it’s his favorite.

As he went to start up the snow blower, I started picking up the breakfast dishes. I was feeling a little sad, I admit. I wondered if the romance was over, and now we were just one of those old married couples.

Picking up his plate, something came up with it, and then floated back down to the table. It was a paper heart, and written on it was: “Be my Valentine again. I love you even more now than the day we got married. Love, Bill” I think I actually turned sixteen again on the spot.

Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed.