…or alternately titled “Post Valentine’s Day mush…”
Consider yourself sufficiently warned.
It wasn’t the one dozen long stem red roses.
Nor was it the beautiful card
signed in his scrawl
with my name on it.
Those are lovely and beautiful…
and I am grateful,
but neither of these are what said
“I love you!”
on Valentine’s Day.
Instead, it was looking over my shoulder
and seeing him walk in carrying the
card and the flowers…
his face flushed
and red from the cold wind,
his eyes droopy and drippy
from the flu he battled.
In the midst of coming down with the “love”
I shared with him,
he planned a great surprise.
Knowing I had the one working vehicle,
he walked a half mile from work to the store
and then another mile from the store to homeschool co op where Ellen and I were
in the cold February wind while his body ached.
Roses on Valentine’s day is not an every year thing.
In fact, I often say, “please don’t.”
and yet… when it’s a sacrificial choice rather than an marital obligation,
it becomes one of the many ways he loves me.
…yes, I am truly blessed.