My littlest heart

Valentine's day has never really turned my crank. Oh sure I loved those little cards when I was small, seeing my school mailbox overflowing was a thrill! I would savour each and every one. Read them and look for the deeper meaning, delight in all the love and affection.

Then I was older and saw the paper waste and observed the twist of the heart for those victimized by singlehood on the day of the couple. My rant would include commentary on how this was a "made up" holiday, entirely for the purpose of filling the commercial gap between Christmas and Easter. I was angry on behalf of my girlfriends who were desperately single and felt the full force of a false type of lonely on this day of hearts.

Older still, I felt some disdain for a holiday that capitalized on such a powerful emotion, while allowing the most dysfunctional lover to feel they could balance out a year of ineptness in a single day. Every day should be a day to show love and affection. We should be aware of our gratitude and express it without prompting.

With more time, I have softened and yielded to a place where I can be happy for those who enjoy the fun of heart day, while being impervious to its dark side. I can "like" the sweet comments posted by those in the throws of fresh love, and feel moved by the inevitable heartbreaker story of a timeless and enduring love, that gets circulated through the social networks. All the while being unaffected if there doesn't happen to be a valentine with my name on it in my mailbox.

This year, we woke up late and I needed to get my little miss to get on the move. I hate to wake her up harshly, so I stroked her tiny little face and whispered "are you going to wake up?". After a few moments of this, she stretched out a little arm, and with a sleepy yawn she said " happy valentines day mom", without opening her eyes, she curled right back into a sweet little ball and continued sleeping.

Heart melting, I think to myself, well isn't this the best valentines ever?