This is the year of tenths: tenth dataversary, tenth lovaversary, tenth proposaversary, and — Lord willing — a tenth wedding anniversary. Amidst all this versarying, it almost escaped me that this is the tenth Valentine’s Day in which my Sweet Lady and I have been, well, sweet. With so many other days to mark, we have never really dug into Valentine’s Day. Not that there have not been attempts.
One year we made plans to see the movie Chocolat and have a really great meal afterwards. We booked a reservation at one of Altamont’s more storied Chezs du Cuisine and went off the see the film. While it was a good flick, Chocolat suffered a bit from what movie critics refer to as the “Ghostbusters Effect” since we had heard how great it was over and over. And over. And. Over. Andover. Plus the meal kind of stunk. Not that it smelled, it just wasn’t very good. The only time I have ever sent anything back was when, at the end, we were served a “flourless torte” which was really a burnt disk of unsweetened cocoa powder. Since then, we have not really gone in for big gesture Valentine’s Days.
I used to think that the big gesture was stupid. What mattered were the little things I did every day. This is what proved my love, whether they got recognized or not. Recognized being better than not. Recognized seeming to happen more often as I became more aware and grateful for all the little things my Sweet Lady does. And the more I recognized them, the more I want to celebrate them. Maybe not with a huge gesture, but at least with a little something that says, “hey, thanks for being my love.”