February 14

Today is considered by most, a holiday. But dates are just markers in time that we share with lots of other humans. A date is not exclusive to you or me. We may share a birthday with someone, or an anniversary. Someone close to us may have passed on a holiday that in turn makes that holiday difficult. But a date is just a date, a mark in time. I wish I had realized this years ago, and yet sometimes still, I have to remind myself. 

I have had a love/hate relationship with today’s date my whole life. Well until a few years ago when I finally embraced that each day is to be celebrated and we all share dates with everyone in the world. My “thing” is not any more important than anyone else’s “thing” on any given date. But Valentine’s Day can be hard for many. Here is my date association story.

Growing up the gawky teenager, the one who never had a boyfriend (well until almost a senior in high school), the one who always had the crush but was never “crushed on”, I hated the holiday because my friends were getting roses at school, or fancy boxes of chocolates and a date. I got nothing. Though I will say my daddy was always great at doing something for my sister and me as an extension of what he did for mom. I do have good memories of that.

But later, in married life, the holiday still had no special pomp and circumstance, though I longed for it to. I would say it was ho-hum. Or ok. Then when my first marriage was ending, we gave each other the most romantic Valentine’s Day gift of all, the final decision, and fight that came with it, to divorce. I went into work the next day to the typical question, “What did you guys get for each other for Valentine’s Day?” To which I emphatically answered, “A DIVORCE!” When my coworkers made it to our work area, they asked, “What in the world did you say to Daniel?? He said, ‘whatever you do, don’t ask Lisa what she got for Valentine’s Day!’”  They looked like they had seen a ghost! So, I told them the same thing.

The following year, I thought I had found my prince charming, he bought me flowers, showered me with romantic cards, dinner, and such. The trend continued the following year, which was so exciting! Then we were married. It lasted a few more years until he turned his “attention” elsewhere, the V-day romance fell apart. 

Fourteen years later, during a separation, I was still wondering what our fate would be, longing for a time of love, listening to everyone’s stories, seeing the flowers, cards, and romance, when I received a dozen roses from him at work. I was shocked! I was also touched and bewildered because the card just had his name. No, “I love you” no apology, no mushy stuff, and an odd flower.

In this dozen red roses was one pink rose. What could that mean? Was that an olive branch? An apology? Is one pink rose symbolic of something? Anything?? But it must be! Did it mean, “Forgive me”? “I want you back!” “I will do anything!” The curiosity was killing me! I looked it up everywhere to find nothing. No profound significance at all. But there must be! There must be some “reason” or “message” behind it.

Letting my mind run wild was not doing me any favors. If anything, it only made my anxiety worse. So, I gathered up the courage and I called the florist. This florist wasn’t just any florist. They happen to be the most creative, artistic, and spectacular in town. They are so good that I had given their card to my husband years ago to keep in his wallet, should the romantic opportunity or longing arise. 

The designer himself answered the phone. And I proceeded to ask the most embarrassing, stupid, selfish, expectant question EVER! And his answer, “There isn’t anything special about it, I just had an extra pink rose, thought it was pretty, and I stuck that baby in there!”

Wow.

From that point on I was determined to 1)always do flowers for myself; 2)never expect flowers from a man again EVER; and 3) not care about ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for as long as I live.

The years go by, I’m finally with the love of my life and EVERY day is Valentine’s day for us. EVERY day is a holiday to us. We live with the happiness and gratitude that doesn’t require a holiday to share it or celebrate it. And though we practice this daily gratitude, just when I think that V-day could not get any weirder in terms of date association for me, my recent ex-husband and his new wife welcomed their baby boy, on February 14, and they gave him a name that we had chosen when we were trying to get pregnant almost 20 years ago. (We have three angels in heaven who we will meet someday. That is another story of redemption for another day. And I know, get that crazy association stuff out of my head. #headtrash) 

So, what is a date? It is a mark in time. Holidays are man-made occasions to celebrate something. Something that “man” deems needs celebrating by the universe. It is marketing, money making, yadayadayada. But is a date exclusive to me in terms of meaning, memory, or importance? No. There are many other things that happen on this date. Alexander Graham Bell applied for a patent for the telephone. Oregon and Arizona were both made states, all on February 14. 

Celebrate each day; not just this one. Love everyone, always. Be kind to your neighbor. And find forgiveness. We only have so many “dates” in our lives. They don’t have to be the romantic kind. As Aristotle said, “Happiness depends on ourselves” not on a holiday.