Monday, February 14, 2011

To my Valentine

Neither of us are huge Valentine celebrants. Small gestures each day say much more about our relationship than hearts and flowers once a year.

This year, we shared a heart shaped pizza from Mother Bears with the boys. At home. On Sunday (Chris has to teach tonight). It was a great low-key way to acknowledge the day. I mean, heart shaped pizza! Delivered to our door!

I don't need flowers (the cats would just eat them) or chocolates (my waistline doesn't need any help). I certainly don't need jewelry. Besides not wearing much, I'd rather not run up the credit card bill. Because nothing says "I love you" like going into debt we'll have to pay off for the rest of our lives together. (Hey, you take your romance where you can get it.)

That's not to say people shouldn't celebrate their romance. If you love Valentine's Day, go for it. But if you don't care, it's just another day. And this year, the first day to file federal taxes if you use certain forms. To me, that's a much better reason to celebrate.

Yep, I spent some time this afternoon filing our taxes. To me, that was worth celebrating. And we can celebrate ever more when our refund comes in. If anyone is looking for a free online filing site, try FreeFillableForms.

Ok, I will admit I made a Valentine that I tucked into Chris's laptop bag. I was helping the boys make Valentines; I really couldn't just ignore the crayons and construction paper, could I?

I think maybe Valentine's Day is more for kids than adults. It comes with too much pressure as you get older. The simple joy of a Valentine wears off as we get older. Somehow, the innocent no-strings-attached expression of love and caring gets put aside when we start to actually fall in love.

So here's a little poem for my Valentine.

I waited lots of years
to find my one true love.
You came along
quite by surprise
when I wasn't looking.
You've made my life
quite complete.
You are my best friend.
I can't imagine life
without you by my side.

1 comment:

  1. That's lovely, Meagan. It really is the little things that matter.


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