It has been a quiet Valentine's Day and one I have enjoyed by staying home, writing and thinking. It began with a visit from the Valentine bunny, who left me a small arrangement of flowers, chocolate dipped strawberries, and a beautiful card. These are all deposits for a day in the future when I can actually eat the berries along with the wine and cheese that I gave Mike, my husband. This is because today, I am "fasting" for the routine colonoscopy to be done tomorrow.
When I scheduled the procedure, I asked for the next nearest day possible. "Well, we're booked up into March." the nurse explained. "But, wait, there's an opening on February 15." "I'll take it!" I hastily replied. Then it dawned on me why there was an opening. No food for 24 hours equals let's not do this the day after I get chocolate and a nice dinner.
I don't mind. I'd rather get this over and done and have dinner on a night when the resturants are not so packed anyway, and it has been a real "day off" for me while I stay necessarily very, very close to home.
Valentine has always been a day that I loved. When my children were small, we made a big deal of it, and still I make cherry pies, my favorite kind of valentine, for my family. Once, I even had one delievered to my daughter in New York. I didn't like the idea that she didn't have a pie for the day. Today, my daughter didn't get a pie, but she got a small book and card. My son, Matt, has a pie to share with his wife and child. My son, Dan, now dead for eleven Valentines, got his roses. It is the least I could do. A true romantic, he loved Valentines more than any of the three.
In these later days, Mike and I enjoy spending time together and that makes Valentine's day a lot more fun and less complicated. It is a time for small offerings and maybe a celebration. It has not always been this way. Passionate times, hard times, grieving times, stressful times, and celebratory times have seen this day with us. It is enough to know that we have reached this day again and we see it in and out with peaceful, loving hearts. Tomorrow, is another story.
