One year I received roses for Valentine’s Day. Cliche to some and ritual to others, these roses from a musician I was seeing were not just roses, they were ROSES. I’m not sure where they came from, but they were so beautifully unique that if he told me they were flown in from some remote fantasyland where they were genetically engineered somewhere in the abyss, I think I would have believed him. Never have I seen a rose (or in this case 2-dozen) so very perfect, so very beautiful and so very expensive since, well ever. But before you start thinking that J nabbed herself a successful lead singer who had some serious dough to burn, rest assure that is not the case. At the time, this musician was a scab during a well-known union dispute and was making $50 an hour stocking canned-goods at a grocery store nearly 3000 miles away.
He must have liked me though, right?
He did. He liked me so much that when I called to thank him, he was unreachable.
I’m guessing he went to the land where these roses came from and got lost.
But I digress.
The reason I share this story is:
A. It’s funny. After all these years, my mom and I still talk about those ROSES and how we can’t believe that I never spoke to him again.
B. Getting dumped by cupid and wallowing in my own misery on Valentine’s Day taught me that love, in all its forms, is often most prevalent in the every day mundane by people who genuinely love me.
It reminded me of the people who freely step up to love me when things in my life go off the tracks. I thought I saw love one way, from one person, but I ended up finding it in a different place, from a different person who freely stepped up to comfort me. They comforted me on Valentine’s day, a day of love. That is what Valentine’s day is all about. It’s about celebrating love in all its forms.
So I ask you what I’ve asked myself:
Who in your life puts you back together? Who freely and repeatedly steps up in your time of need?
That is Love. That is what should be celebrated.
Happy Valentine’s Day.