Living Large In Our Little House

Ok, I’ve always been a sucker for Valentine’s Day, that quasi-made-up hol­i­day that dri­ves con­sumerism and helps greet­ing card companies.

When you’ve been with some­one for 33 years and mar­ried for nearly 26, you know part of the deal is shar­ing and express­ing appre­ci­a­tion for that love more than one day a year, but Valentine’s Day does give a foun­da­tion to help sup­port that love.

Watching the snow fall yes­ter­day, I was think­ing of the most mem­o­rable Valentine’s Day, which was the first one we were together.

It was 1980, I was a sopho­more in high school and Dale had already grad­u­ated and was work­ing full time.

He wooed me a lot back then by sur­pris­ing me with gifts and he out­did him­self on Valentine’s Day by hav­ing a dozen roses sent to my high school.

Nothing earned the “best boyfriend” envy of other girls in my school more than see­ing me get roses, deliv­ered to my French class by the office sec­re­tary (who hap­pened to be Dale’s aunt).

The sec­ond most mem­o­rable had to be the heart shaped waf­fle maker he bought me some­time after we mar­ried, one I still use here at Our Little House.

The next Valentine’s Day that sticks out in my mind is the one five years ago, when my mother was in the hospital.

My mother had wors­ened and she begged me to stay the night with her. I sat in the chair next to her bed all night, doz­ing off. Each time I awoke, the red and sil­ver heart shaped bal­loons we sent her the day before were danc­ing in the low light at the end of their strings each time the heat in the room kicked on.

By that time, my mother had been in the hos­pi­tal nearly a month. Balancing our work, the house and dogs with 14-hour hos­pi­tal vig­ils were tak­ing a toll.

After a 12-hour night shift, Dale brought me a cap­puc­cino and a heart shaped donut at the hos­pi­tal early that morn­ing. (Mom couldn’t eat solid foods by then).

Mom loved all of the hol­i­days and always dec­o­rated her door with décor she crafted. When we had moved her to the senior liv­ing apart­ment the year before, all of her hol­i­day décor was there but for her Valentine’s decoration.

Always the firm believer in pos­i­tive think­ing, she had asked me ear­lier that month to go and get a door dec­o­ra­tion so it would feel “fes­tive” at her apart­ment when she was released from the hospital.

I was touched by Dale’s thought­ful­ness, but he didn’t stay long, he needed to go home and take care of the dogs and get some sleep.

As I sat in the semi-darkened room eat­ing my donut, watch­ing my mother strug­gle to breathe, even in her sleep, I thought of her apart­ment door, all dec­o­rated for Valentine’s Day.

Of course, I knew she wouldn’t see it that day and for some rea­son, it was when it hit me that she would never see it.

Since we moved to Our Little House, I once found the box with that door dec­o­ra­tion and I knew I wanted to keep it to always remind me of my mother’s fight­ing spirit and because it was one of the last things I was able to do for her.

Mysteriously, as had her other dec­o­ra­tion when we moved her, that one dis­ap­peared, pos­si­bly re-packed by error wait­ing to be redis­cov­ered in the big barn again or mis­tak­enly given away with some of the boxes that went to charity.

I bought the door dec­o­ra­tion pic­tured above the first year we moved here when I real­ized the one she had made for me so many years ago was bro­ken and I couldn’t find the one I pur­chased for her that she never got to see.

The one I dec­o­rated her door with that last year was a sim­ple red and pink wooden string of let­ters that spelled “LOVE.”

It may seem like a day full of con­sumerist hype, but it’s nice to have one day of the year to remind us how impor­tant love is in all of our lives.

Happy Valentine's Day, Living Large community!

What’s your most mem­o­rable Valentine’s Day?