If this history of Valentine’s Day is true, it’s a wonder we celebrate it. The day has morphed into flowers and chocolates and little cards tucked into backpacks, without a single beheading in site.
My parents owned a flower shop in Seaforth, Canada before we came along. February 14th was one of the busier days of the year. As we got older, my dad would leave a small florist card with the note “Love, Daddy” on our pillow with a little treat for us to find after school. I felt so grown up!
I have my own love-it-or-leave-it history of this day of hearts starting with grade school. In third grade it was awesome: *everyone* received a card and possibly candy in those days. It was festive and fun. During middle school I hated it: too much ambiguity about the whole love thing. When I was first dating in my twenties, I loved it. I felt special on Valentine’s Day when my sweetie gave me a card and flowers. Someone loved me! Relationships ended and I was back to hating it again. Who needs a silly day to remind them that they don’t have someone special to make a fuss about, or to be on the receiving end of some really good chocolate. After many years of happy marriage, I’m moving into neutral territory. I’m loveable no matter who says so, though I appreciate it when the man I married makes a fuss. I’m trying hard to lose a few pounds and chocolate is my weakness so my husband made a point of lovingly *not* buying me chocolate this year but a beautiful card instead. Who knew that love could mean not getting chocolate on Valentine’s day?
Love is in the air but my heart is in the garden…and the flower shop…with my family…the possibilities are endless.