A Valentine's Day Story
Admittedly, I have not bought into the Valentine's Day holiday so much, especially in later years. To me, it is another commercialized holiday. I prefer the ordinary days the most. Calm, ordinary, and peaceful days with fleeting moments of beauty. Having said that, I want to share a Valentine's Day story from long ago when I first met Steve. Revert back to February of 1991.Steve and I were sophomores at Holy Cross College. I was in anti-man mode due to a breakup and was not dating anyone at the time. Steve and I were friends. It was the Sunday before Valentine's Day. I laid out my clothes for the next day. I was going to wear all black to protest Valentine's Day. (This was before basic black came back into vogue.) I was working out to one of the Jane Fonda video tapes in my sister's room. (She was away at college and had the VCR hooked up to the tv. Remember, this was 1991.) The doorbell rang. Mom came into the room and told me that someone was here to see me. I came downstairs in my t-shirt and shorts, disheveled from working out, only to see Steve, dressed up, standing shyly at the bottom of the stairs with a dozen red roses and a card. Surprised and touched, I graciously accepted. The next day, I only wore half black. Several months later (Thanksgiving 1991), we started dating, and the rest is history.