My husband and I went to Ruth’s Chris for Valentine’s Day. I had a medium-rare fillet and garlic mashed potatoes and Chocolate Sin cake. Mmmmm. The only downside was that our romantic dinner was last Friday, February 10th. On Sunday, he flew off to his new job in Washington State where he gets to joyfully work on a nuclear waste problem. Go, Steve!
Monday morning, I packed up the Valentine’s Day decorations that were hanging around mocking me. That’s okay; we had our nice time. An early Valentine’s Day is still Valentine’s Day -- to me, anyway.
Tuesday was a little sad, though. There was no one next to me when I woke up; no one in the house; no Valentine’s Day kiss. I went to dance class and then participated in a demonstration at the Fairfax County Courthouse where Karen Rasmussen and Barbara Bream, two members of my church, applied for (and were denied) a marriage license in the good Old Dominion. I returned home to set up for my tutorial session. I was busy and didn’t give the holiday another thought.
At 4:30, the doorbell rang and a seven-year-old duly presented himself for reading instruction. “Thank you for helping me get better in my reading,” he said (I image an obedient repetition from parental coaching) and held out a big red envelope and small golden box in hand. (Is that Godiva? Oh, yes. Score!)
“You made my Valentine’s Day!” I told him happily. “This is the only Valentine I got today because Mr. Steve is out of town. This is so nice!”
He told a long story about selecting the card which I didn’t quite catch as it was rattled off at about 300 words per minute. We sat on the couch where I opened the card, read it aloud and stood it up on the work table.
The boy, whose classic grin is missing two front teeth, slid across the couch and wrapped his little arms about my neck and gave me a gentle hug. Then I got a spontaneous kiss right on my cheek. He scooched back and shyly looked at the floor.
I’m telling you, that was the sweetest Valentine.