a dozen roses.
a box of chocolates.
a mass-produced card.
a set of diamond earrings.
a heart-shaped balloon attached to a teddy bear.
Sure, all that stuff is sweet and makes us feel all tingly and special on the inside, but what about the other days of the year? I'm thinking about all those flat tires and mandatory oil changes and clogged drains and the hideous spider on the wall that the man in my life takes care of so I don't have to. Or the time a mouse was in our bedroom and the husband stuffed towel barriers under the doors and chased that little rodent with a broom until he triumphantly removed it (much to my delight) in the middle of the night. He battled slimy slugs in one house, got ambushed by smelly ladybugs trapped in a vent in another house. He's changed out fifty-year old sewer pipes and more nasty toilets than I can count on two hands. He put in a ventless gas log system because wood smoke makes my eyes burn. He tinted my car windows so I wouldn't be so hot in the southern heat.
Yes, he's given me all the above Valentine paraphernalia at one time or another in our nineteen years (minus the balloon and teddy bear combo; he's just not that kind of man). He surprises me with unexpected gifts every now and then (like my pink bike from last year), but most of the time, it's just those day-to-day tasks that remind me I am the special one in his life. You can't buy that feeling on any Walmart shelf. This year, however, I think my daughter must have got a hold of him because he presented me with flowers on Sunday, a card on Monday, and a pair of earrings Today. He got a hold of her right back, though, when she found a card with her name on it propped up on the computer desk this morning. You want to make any teenage girl feel special? Give her a card that unfolds to a big heart and signed by her daddy. I don't know what he wrote in there, but by the smile on her face... well, that man did good. Real good.
People either love Valentine's Day or they hate it. They either know the history of it or they don't. Doesn't really matter to me. Those flowers wilt and get tossed; the chocolate becomes something we have to battle later on. That spider, though? He knows not the day on the calendar.
I'm counting on my valentine to be prepared all year long.
1 comment:
Cliff and I had a talk about this very topic on our morning walk, and I am thinking about doing an entry about Vday myself. If I do, I will link to yours.
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