Valentines Gone By

I remember spending an afternoon decorating that shoebox with construction paper and glue, coloring little hearts and cupids, all the while hoping and wishing that I’d find a Valentine or two from a cute boy tucked inside. I poured my heart into that pink and red construction-papered box. The day of the party my stomach was a nervous mess of butterflies, and I could feel my face burning red. What would I find inside? Was he watching me? Waiting for me to find his card, the card that would tell me he thinks I’m the cutest girl in the class? I almost had an anxiety attack, lifting the glittered lid off the festive box, all my hopes and wishes and self-esteem hanging delicately in the balance….waiting with baited breath on this day, of all days, when I so desperately wanted to be someone’s Valentine…

I remember walking into school that morning, wondering what he had planned. He had a job, and I knew he spent a decent amount of money on his ex-girlfriend, so I had high hopes I’d be on the receiving end of some impressive Valentine gifts. I remember feeling my breath catch a little when he handed me those red roses, candy, and teddy bear. There might have been a balloon too; the details are a little fuzzy. I could barely navigate the halls, clutching my tangible proof that I was indeed someone’s Valentine that year. That? That was love...

I remember waiting in the car while he was in the florist’s. I thought it was a little odd that he’d bring me here, instead of going by himself, but maybe he hadn’t had the time. I couldn’t believe he was going to buy me roses. He wasn’t exactly rolling in the money. He walked back to the car, tossing a receipt on the console, grumbling that he didn’t realize how expensive roses were on Valentine’s Day, so his mom better appreciate them. His mom? My heart sank and I fought the tears away. I wanted to throw up, but forced myself to remain composed. So he got his mom roses. No big deal. I’m the love of his life; surely my gift will be more magnificent than roses. Valentine’s Day arrived and I woke with a jittery tummy. The entire day passed with nary a phone call, flower delivery, or e-card. That evening he presented me with a gift bag, lip gloss and candy haphazardly tossed inside. I thought he loved me…

I never got the adoring Valentine card in my decoupage shoebox. The boy who showered me with roses and candy ended up getting me pregnant at fifteen and running off a few years later. The momma’s boy? I married him. And he has made up for that first Valentines every single day since.

Love is funny. We think it’s going to show up cloaked in hearts and flowers, trailing ribbons of happiness and mushy gushy heart flutters. But sometimes love shows up like a lost dog on your doorstep; dirty, unkempt, not housetrained, and a little obnoxious. If we’re solely focused on show dogs we won’t see the potential beauty of the stray. But if we allow our hearts to be open and are willing to accept someone, flaws and all, we may just find a Valentine better than any we ever imagined.