Debby Does…

On this chilly Valentine’s Day morning, I find myself sitting in my sunny office—the room that has become my very favorite in this house that we bought after seeing it for 10 minutes, in 2021 during a crazy real estate boom.  I love my desk that sits right across from my husband’s.  While his is covered in building plans and post its with phone numbers, mine is a bit more sentimental— my grandparents in a beautiful picture, my mom’s 3rd place ribbon for kickball from 1954, bits of vintage ephemera, photos, and an orange travel alarm clock that my mom relied on during her days performing with the USO—it’s set for 11:06, the date she left this world and found peace from the war on her mind.  

I’ve always had mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day.  I think it makes an awful lot of people feel left out and lonely.  I’m also a firm believer that, if you do every day right, you don’t need one day to tell someone you love them.  I send a lot of cards to friends before the day because I want them to know that they have a special place in my heart.  I never want anyone to feel like love doesn’t have a place in their life.

I’m lucky to be in love with not only my associate of 32 years, but with my life and my logical family.  I don’t know if I have ever felt that more deeply than right now.  After a stretch of great loss and grief, the future seems sparkly and bright with abundant love coming my way.  I wish everyone could feel like this today and every day.

Still, I know that life has peaks and valleys, which is why I am approaching Valentine’s Day differently this year.  I’m not mocking anyone’s demonstrations of love and romance, nor am I pretending that it doesn’t matter to me.  I am embracing the opportunity to have a special night at home, taking care of the person who takes such loving care of me.  After nearly 30 years of marriage, wanting to be with one person over all others, wanting only to breathe in the air that he breathes, and knowing that he feels the same way deserves recognition.  Why not?  Love is good.  Attention must be paid.  

Now, please know that I’m not into overly romantic gestures.  I believe that real romance and love lies in the small gestures.  On our first Christmas together, Jim gave me two pairs of long underwear pants—one in red and the other in blue.  It was college times, and I spent a lot of time in a rather ratty pair of off white long johns with sweatshirts.  He thought maybe new ones would be nice.  It remains my favorite Christmas gift of all time from him.  

This year, I have made yet another attempt to get my love a pair of oven mitts that might fit his big ol’ man hands.  Small gesture filled with love.  Tonight, I might try my hand at lobster vol au vent with filets and parmesan potatoes. Or, we might get Taco Bell.  It doesn’t matter; we’ll be together.  

And, yes, I find him maddeningly annoying and frustrating sometimes.  Like today.  Right now, we’re trying to find the balance between my retirement and his working at home.  This morning did not go well.  He’ll spend the day on the road with his customers, and I’ll take care of the pups and work on music and musings.  By the time he gets home, we’ll start over and settle back into the comfortable rhythm of our life together.  

And, Jim, if you find yourself reading this today, while taking a break from working, I’m sorry to have ruined surprises, but happy to tell you that I love you, not just on a Hallmark holiday, but every day from the worst to the best, because that’s what I promised on that beautiful August day in 1994, while you cried and I laughed.  Laughter and tears and love, that’s what we’re built on.