Am I the only person who enjoyed Valentine’s Day more as a kid than as an adult? Don’t get me wrong, my husband is always lovely enough to gift me with some exquisite item I’ve oh-so-subtly-hinted-at, and I always take him out for a V-Day dinner (never on this date, but a day or two afterward, because who in their right mind messes around with reservations and questionable service/value on February 14?) But for the rest of it – the candy and flowers and in-store hype – I always think back to when it all meant a little more.
Strangely enough, Valentine’s Day was never about romantic love for me – it was about love in general. For a child growing up, that’s the only sort of love I understood or felt. Rather than pining for a love interest, I poured my heart into crafting Valentine cards for my friends and family. The thrill of the day was in watching my classmates open up their bags of cards, and opening the ones they had given to me. While we all exchanged cards (even if we hated the person they went to) there were some that were more dear to me, especially when someone I liked, or tolerated, turned out to write something touching in a few short words. It was always more moving when it came from someone I would never suspect of such kindness; we expect worship and adoration from our dearest friends – it’s the unexpected show of love that pulls most insistently at the heart.
As for romance – or Romance with the capital ‘R’ because we add such unearned Reverence to the concept – I couldn’t quite grasp it when I was a kid. On an episode of ‘Family Ties’ they put this heartsick ballad on, and I felt the first hints of the longing and heartache that love could elicit. This song tore up the radio shortly thereafter, and I’d listen to it late at night, wondering at what it all meant.
Meanwhile, I focused on the superficial trappings of the season – all the pinks and reds and fuchsias, all the stuffed animals and cuddly promises of LOVE…
One year I begged my Mom to let me get some fabric and decorations to make a stuffed heart. Using a silky chiffon in the brightest red, I sewed it all up by hand – a typical red heart, which I then bordered with a thin ribbon of purple velvet ribbon – all softness and sensory delight – before gluing on a pink felt heart at its center, and a healthy sprinkling of sequins and glitter in an act that would become a trademark – much to the chagrin of all my friends who never wanted glitter on their faces for the rest of their lives.
‘Tis the damn season, so go have your Valentine’s Day and celebrate in whatever fashion you deem delightful. I’ll be home with Andy, watching the new season of ‘Feud’ with Truman Capote and his Swans. A night in with a television show is a rare indulgence for me, and I couldn’t ask for a better Valentine.
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