“What though youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine…”
Now that the Hallmark Holiday of the year is a few days past, and the roses are starting to wilt and droop like me, I’d like to discuss that damned holiday. It has meant something different at every stage of my life.
In my teens and early twenties if I didn’t have a date on Valentine’s Day, I was devastated.
Almost a decade later when my children were little, I’d spend hours with them creating Valentine’s for them to pass out at school. Everything was an art project back then. One year it was tulips out of chocolate kisses and pipe cleaner with pink cellophane, one year it was foam hearts for heads with googlie eyes and gum stick body’s with pipe cleaner arms and legs, one year it was mice made out of hearts whose tails were lolly pop sticks. We’d make close to a hundred of these treasures to pass out to their three classes each year.
Fast forward ten more years. This year, Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday, which means everyone with a social life did something- social.
My teenaged children had dates. They came home with beautiful bouquets of white roses, red roses, chocolates, and doggy bags from the fine dining establishments they patronized.
I came home with sore feet and a bug up my ass.
There may have been a point in my life when I’d get dressed up after doing my hair and nails, and then go out to be wined and dined by someone who thought I was all that and a bag of chips, but for the life of me, I don’t remember it- and that’s okay. When I decide there is time to partake of my “me time”, I’ll do it. For now, I barely have time for my to do lists.
I don’t really have a point to this post, except to say that that as pathetic as I sound with regards to this period of my life which may lack a certain level of social interaction, it could always be worse. My Valentine’s Day plans last year clearly illustrate the point-
On Valentine’s Day, 2014, I had my own Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre. I didn’t shoot up a bunch of rival mobsters in a Chicago parking garage, I massacred my list of necessary but unpleasant tasks that always comes up in February: I did my taxes, had my annual mammogram, and went in for my annual Pap smear. I thought I’d never come back from that one. That of course is the Valentine’s Day that I will always remember. As a friend pointed out, I received a gift of money, someone squeezed my boobs, and some cobwebs were cleared out, so why was I complaining?
The Daily Post
Feb 19, 2015
Use It or Lose It
Write about anything you’d like, but make sure the post includes this sentence:
“I thought we’d never come back from that one.”