Today was a day my husband and I routinely ignore on an annual basis as something designed by marketers to make money selling situationally overpriced flowers and unnecessary calories to unsuspecting and uncreative individuals wishing to mimic the idea of love in a physical form. We ignore it to save money, to save time, and to save sanity. Often we would exchange a handwritten letter to one another as an indication that today is a day when people remember their love and commit to strengthen it anew in the face of the day to day struggles of any relationship. Today started out no different: my husband was slated to work a very long day (leaving before I woke up and getting home nearly in time for our normal bedtime routine).
When I woke up he had already left (after giving me a kiss in bed) and I awoke to find the customary letter he had handwritten. It was, as always, kind hearted and heart warming. In it, he apologized for having to work such a long day and asked me to see him in our kids when they were being particularly rambunctious. I set out, motivated by my children, to create a bevy of crafts and handwritten cards out of tissue paper for St. Valentine’s Day as a project to give to aunts, uncles and grandparents. After a day of crafts I left on an errand and got a phone call.
My husband was calling — 4 and a half hours early — to tell me that he would be home in ten minutes. I had nothing ready: no dinner, no finished cards, the house was a mess! He reminded me that the most important thing was that we would be together. He picked up a modest bottle of champagne, I got out some cookies I had been saving, and the kids and I showed him all of the cards we had made throughout the day. It was a great day. Full of surprises, love, and — surprisingly — Valentine’s day cards. We made them by hand, though, and with great love. In some ways it wasn’t that different at all. It just evolved. Happy St. Valentine’s Day!