What I miss most every Valentine’s Day is making a card for my Mom. She was the very first person I ever sent a Valentine’s Day card to. The year was 1991. She never really knew what Valentine’s Day was, and she never really cared. All she knew was she would get a card from me in February. A card made with, full of, and sent with love.
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I never took notice where the cards went until one day after a few years of NOT sending her Valentine’s Day cards anymore. I was looking for a nail-clipper in her old closet and saw a card slipped between her batik sarongs. I pulled the card out and then I saw another. And another. And another. But staying true to Mom’s house rule, I put the cards back where they belonged.
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Last night when Edrick wished me ‘Happy ALMOST Valentine’s Day’ before bed and told me that he would be making a Valentine’s card at school on the real Valentine’s Day, I thought of my Mom and all my handmade Valentine’s cards she kept in her closet. Maybe this year I’ll start making Valentine’s card again. For Monchies. And for myself.
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Perhaps a blue heart would be a good start.
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Questa è Enida 
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