I actually have a photo of six-year-old me on February 14. My dark hair is pulled into two pigtails, each adorned with a lacy bow. I am wearing a white turtleneck with pink cupids dancing along the frills at the shoulder. I am beaming, because it is my favourite day.
Years - Day - Enjoyment - Sensibilities - Kindergartener
Thirty years later, I still love this darn day. I really do. And my enjoyment has not evolved much from the sensibilities of a kindergartener. I delight in the fluttering red and blush paper hearts after dreary January. I live for the copious amounts of chocolate and the bags of spicy cinnamon hearts, which I unabashedly crunch all month long. Of course, at the heart of it, today is about love. There is something so beautifully profound about a day to show love. A day that inspires us to press pause on our to-do lists, and express gratitude for our friends and family. A day to remember those who have weathered life’s most devastating storms with their hand firmly in ours. A day to send thoughtful cards and texts and fifty-pound teddy bears.
In grade school, giving and receiving Valentine’s Day cards was the hands-down highlight. I agonized over choosing valentines for each of my friends, and couldn’t wait to deliver my cards to their mailboxes. Of course, by mailbox I mean a folded over piece of construction paper.
Thing - Cards - Valentine - Person - Class
The one thing I remember about crafting those cards is that I had to make a valentine for every single person in my class. I made one for my best friend. And for the girl who always scored higher than me on math tests. I picked one for the boy who made fun of me every morning on the bus. And for that weird kid who ate vanilla Lip Smackers.
Everyone got one. The...
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