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Valentine's
Day is for Everyone
By Debra Sansing Woods
My first marriage ended in divorce
just over sixteen years ago. This was not an altogether bad thing;
I was relieved to put the enormous heartbreak of that marriage behind
me. Far from feeling self-pity, I was enjoying my new-found independence.
Even so, I felt a little lonely at the thought of spending my first
post-divorce Valentine's Day alone.
Accepting the reality that I would be dateless on February 14th,
I wondered how I would spend the day designated especially for couples.
I considered pretending that it was just another day ? as if that
would be possible, given the deluge of love offerings that some
of my coworkers were likely to receive. Maybe it would help if I
acted as if I were deeply engrossed in reviewing some spreadsheets
when the co-worker one cubicle over received her dozen red roses
and box of chocolate truffles.
I was inclined to do just that, but
there was another thought tugging at the back of my mind —
the thought that maybe, as one who had had her chance at love, I
should just be a good sport and share in my coworkers' giddiness
over her boyfriend's gifts. Maybe I could comfort myself with the
thought that another chance at love might someday come again.
Either of these solutions probably would have worked, but they seemed
a bit narrow in scope. They both assumed that Valentine's Day is
a day to be enjoyed exclusively by couples. I had bought into this
notion, but I had also bought into the notion that the simple act
of getting married guarantees a happily-ever-after. Maybe it was
time to stop investing in notions and start opening myself to the
possibilities. If Valentine's Day didn't have to be exclusively
for couples, could it be something else, maybe even something more?
The answer is a resounding yes.
That first February 14th after my divorce, my three single sisters
and I (none of us were dating anyone special at the time) decided
to buck tradition and seize the couples’ holiday by creating
our own less mainstream version. We each invited a close girlfriend
to join us for an evening of good food and celebrating friendship.
We all agreed that such an evening had the potential to be low in
pressure and high in fun.
My sisters and I went all out by setting a formal table with the
dishes we had inherited from our eccentric, fine china-collecting
Great Aunt Bill. We set each place at the table with a different
pattern of dishes, signifying the unique inner and outer beauty
of each woman who would share dinner with us that evening.
We planned and prepared a delicious
feast of stroganoff, green salad and French bread. We also made
sugar cookies and cleaned and stemmed strawberries, both to be dipped
in chocolate as the grand finale to our luscious meal. My sisters
and I, all long married now, still remember that night of comfortable
conversation illuminated by candlelight as one of our most enjoyable
Valentine's Days ever.
Interestingly, there was someone other
than my sisters who was in sync with my desire to turn Valentine's
Day on its head that particular year. I say someone because I will
never know for sure who that person was.
Early on that Valentine's Day morning, after getting ready for work,
I headed to the front door. I twisted the knob and pulled the door
open and in flew a huge, bright red balloon. The balloon was tied
to the doorknob but also to a Ziploc bag covered in hearts and filled
with treats. These were not store-bought goodies but goodies that
someone had spent hours creating in their kitchen.
Not for a moment did I think that those
treats were made by some secret male admirer. I didn’t personally
know of any single, available man who would have taken the time
necessary to shape those teddy-bear Rice Krispy Treats or to make
those delicious homemade candies.
Instead, I suspected that it was one
of the sweet women at church who had taken me under their wings
during my long, drawn-out divorce proceedings. I’m sure it
was one of them and I'm pretty sure I know which one. I've prodded
her at times over the years to confess, but she has yet to admit
anything.
I realize now that she gave me two
gifts that year — the baked goodies themselves, but also the
sense, as I tried to figure out who had delivered my secret valentine,
that I was loved by many.
Valentine's Day can be something special whether we're involved
in a serious romance or not. We can make the day meaningful in a
variety of ways: by taking an important step in healing a damaged
relationship, sharing some company with a lonely nursing home resident
or simply letting our family and friends know that we love them
and why.
Even now, after enjoying well more than a decade of a genuinely
happy second marriage, I look forward to turning Valentine's Day
on its head every year. This has been a necessity since my husband
and I started our life together with a blended family of six —
not your typical formula for romance.
We begin our Valentine's celebrations
these days with a big family breakfast and then encourage our kids
to catch the spirit of love on that day by doing something extra
nice for their siblings as well as something special for someone
outside our family. Late in the evening, after our kids are tucked
in bed, my husband and I do our best to create a private celebration
of our own. This year, I'm planning a surprise indoor picnic by
candlelight.
Over the years, I've learned that Valentine's Day doesn't have to
be just for couples. Any one of us can take the day and make it
our own. It's not that complicated. All it takes is a little bit
of imagination and an open and willing heart.
© 2007 Meridian Magazine.
All Rights Reserved
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