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Sunday evening, following three days of celebrating my youngest son’s eighteenth birthday, we were sleepy and tired and remembered that tomorrow was Valentines Day. We quickly gave each other permission to let go of our usual traditions.
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…and my husband gave me the beautiful Valentine of a tender kiss just before he left for an early band rehearsal and I lingered in bed another hour…
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….and I gave my newly-eighteen-year-old the Valentine of respectful restraint and, therefore, none of the usual lists and reminders before I left for a day in town…
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…and I gave myself the Valentine of an errand-free afternoon with a long walk, a picnic lunch on a sunny bench and leisurely hours in the library…
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…and the day gave me a Valentine of gentle afternoon breezes and sunshine and lavender and pink clouds at sunset….
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Now it is close to midnight and I await the return of my deario. He says he has two dark beers he is bringing home with him, to be enjoyed with some leftover birthday cake, and the company of our son as we all watch Jon Stewart together.
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It was a very good Valentines Day.
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P.S. And I hope that yours was, too. As I was driving home today,
surrounded by those pastel skies, I thought about what I would write here tonight…and then I thought about the loveliness of comments and what pleasure they bring to me…and then I remembered the anticipation and pleasure of Valentines Days of long ago, in those sweet early years of grade school, when we would fashion those shoe-boxes decorated with construction paper and with the slit cut into the top to receive the valentines…do you remember those? There it would sit, at the edge of the desk, while the whole class wandered the room pushing the little paper envelopes satisfyingly into the slots and you would hope that when you returned to your shoebox it would be gratifyingly filled with those simple, silly Valentines (sorry for the dreadful mix of tenses and such….deario and porter and cake are quickly approaching!).
surrounded by those pastel skies, I thought about what I would write here tonight…and then I thought about the loveliness of comments and what pleasure they bring to me…and then I remembered the anticipation and pleasure of Valentines Days of long ago, in those sweet early years of grade school, when we would fashion those shoe-boxes decorated with construction paper and with the slit cut into the top to receive the valentines…do you remember those? There it would sit, at the edge of the desk, while the whole class wandered the room pushing the little paper envelopes satisfyingly into the slots and you would hope that when you returned to your shoebox it would be gratifyingly filled with those simple, silly Valentines (sorry for the dreadful mix of tenses and such….deario and porter and cake are quickly approaching!).
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Anyway…that is what it feels like to me every time I make
a post and wait for comments. And I like to think that when we visit each blogs and leave a little something in the comment box, it is like those days of meandering around the classroom with our papery missives in hand…..xo
a post and wait for comments. And I like to think that when we visit each blogs and leave a little something in the comment box, it is like those days of meandering around the classroom with our papery missives in hand…..xo
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