Valentine’s Reflections – February 14
Lately, my days are snow-covered and steeped in the search for a shovel. I’ve been busy—too much to do and not enough hours to do it. Right now, I’m sitting at my desk, forgetting what I originally meant to do, and instead watching the sun slip behind the clouds as flurries fall again.
Everything is coated in a thick layer of ice from the freezing rain these past few days. It’s nearly impossible to clear. Fingers crossed its easier tomorrow—Thursday—because that’s grocery day for my father-in-law. Add in a bunch of other errands and, well, Valentine’s Day will be filled up just fine.
My husband and I exchanged our Valentine’s gifts yesterday—he was anxious for me to open mine. And I understand why.
It moved me to tears.
If you knew my husband, you’d know he’s a man of few words. For the past 30+ years, he’s picked out greeting cards that best spoke his heart. This year? He bought a blank card… and filled it with his own words.
#bestcardever
Last week, we grabbed six pink roses for the house—on sale for $5.00—and a little potted yellow rose plant that will find a place in the garden come spring.
As I sit here watching the sun play hide-and-seek behind winter clouds, I found myself wondering how many personal Valentine’s Day posts I’ve shared over the years—outside of Bath & Body Works chatter. Turns out, not too many.
But I found one from 2014 that still makes me smile. That year, a massive snowstorm hit and ruined everyone’s Valentine’s Day plans. Florists couldn’t deliver, restaurants shut down.
I had my roses, though—from Walmart.
And I was just fine.
The sun is out, but the sky isn’t blue—it’s white. A prelude to Winter Storm Pax. Tomorrow will be a good day for shoveling the predicted 12–18 inches and tackling my taxes. Today is for laundry and bookkeeping, with the warm scent of my Cinnamon Frosting candle filling the house.
In two days, it’ll be Valentine’s Day. The day of hearts. A celebration of love. Personally, I celebrate those I love every day—and I hope they know that.
A few days ago, I sent out over a dozen cards to special post offices offering unique Valentine’s Day cancellations. I even mailed one to my husband, alongside the ones I had here at home for him to open.
Last year, I made him a decorated shoebox—like we used to in school—and every day for nearly a year, I added a note or card to it. He still keeps that box on his closet shelf. That makes me smile.
My view of Valentine’s Day has changed so much over the years. I remember how hard this time was for my mom—her father died on February 10th and was buried on Valentine’s Day. For her, it was always bittersweet. As kids, we didn’t understand. We’d come home with our shoeboxes full of cards, all excited, not realizing the quiet grief she carried.
When I started dating, Valentine’s Day felt like pressure—for the guy, especially. Society trained us to expect grand gestures: flowers, candy, cards. And if you didn’t get them? Well, the guy was a “rat.”
But me? I want to be wooed all year long. I don’t need a single day of recognition. Love isn’t a show. It’s the little things, all the time.
I want those around me to feel love—always.
And I hope I give that back, just the same.
I first met my husband at work. I was in the office; he was on the factory floor. I didn’t date coworkers, so when I left that job, I figured I’d never see him again.
Fate had other plans.
Years later, I was a maid of honor in a wedding. My future husband happened to be in a bar with the groom, talking about the wedding photos. When he saw my picture, he said he knew me. Word got back to me that he was single and kind—and I should give him a call.
I know, I know. Guys are supposed to make the call.
But I threw that rule out. I called him—January 27.
We talked for hours. Planned our first date for the week of Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t anything big—just two old friends going out to dinner. I walked to the drugstore beforehand and bought a simple valentine.
It read:
“I just wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He gave me a card too.
We were engaged by April.
Married in October.
And every so often he’ll say, “I’m glad you called.”
No one else knows what that means. But we do.
Every Valentine’s Day since, he’s felt he needs to get me flowers and a card. I have 27 years of cards now—and I smile every time I see a repeat from a previous year. A few days ago, I heard him mutter “Oh boy...” from the bedroom. I asked what was wrong, and he said, “I hope you don’t already have this one.”
{smiling}
Flowers? They don’t need to come from a florist. A $10 bundle from Walmart makes us both happy—especially when we split them and take some to our daughter’s grave, just like we did when she was here.
We’d rather spend flower money on bedding plants for our spring garden. $15 gets you a tray of 45–70 flowers and vegetables. Better spent. More joy.
As for fancy dinners—overpriced, overcrowded restaurants aren’t our thing. I’d rather have a quiet Tuesday steak dinner than an obligatory Valentine’s meal. Love is the everyday.
We’ve been through hell together:
Loss of our daughter. Loss of parents and grandparents.
Cancer. Surgeries. Robbery. Financial struggles. Illness.
But we’ve also seen the joys of life together.
Thank goodness for the joys.
They’re what truly matter.
On the road to forever.
I wish you happiness on your road too.
Happy Valentine’s Day—today and always.
— Tessie
