Growing up Valentine’s Day was always a family holiday. We would have dinner together and my parents would give my brother and I little gifts. Once I chose to hang out with friends after school instead of go straight home on Valentine’s Day. Later my mother called, “Where are you!? You should be home! It’s Valentine’s Day!” I think this emphasis on family is what makes me love the day.
The arguments against Valentine’s Day make sense. I don’t care for crazy commercialization either and we should of course express our love for each other on a daily basis, but it doesn’t hurt to set aside a day to say it again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the twenty-six Valentine’s Days I have experienced. I admit the first few are a bit fuzzy, but I remember most of them quite clearly.
For the next week I will be sharing some of these stories.
I’ll leave you with one of my first memories of the day. I remember being in school and one of the boys in my class was a Jehovah’s Witness. He wouldn’t be bringing cards or treats to share and I vaguely remember being told not to bring him anything. On February 13th he approached me and said “I’m not supposed to get any cards but if you wanted to give me one anyway I think that would be ok.” He had this look in his eyes that said “please bring me a card even though my parents said no.” Even as a child I remember feeling keenly aware of others feelings. I told my mom about the experience and we addressed a card to him. It was one of maybe three he received. It may have been against his parents religious wishes, but that little boy was so happy to get those cards.
What is your first Valentine’s Day memory?