M E R I D I A N     M A G A Z I N E

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.

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