Right now, the home that I’m working in is being pelted with shards of ice and wet heavy snow, there are mountains of snow as tall as a tall dude. I try to remind myself of the origins of Valentine’s Day – Lupercalia (wolves, something something, Romulus/Remus, fertility, something something, whipping excited maidens. . .Oh, Romans), Chaucer (something something, bryds something something, mates), Shakespeare (Nobody outcrazies Ophelia, something something, London tower, lots of dead people in both Hamlet and Tudor London) . . .How did we get here to this frenzied state of hating or loving a holiday that’s supposed to be about lovers but somehow wound up about Hallmark cards and $70 roses and rubber chicken prix fixe menus? And I’m afraid to even discuss the matter of being single on Valentine’s Day as my last single Valentine’s Day was in high school.
This morning, even though Jow had a delayed opening for his clinic, he woke up at 5:30a because I had to be to work early. He spent an hour digging out my car and eventually moving it out of its snow cocoon. He then waited for me to get ready to lead me outside since our walkway wasn’t shoveled yet. He helped me scale the mountain of snow blocking me from the parking lot and tucked me into my car.
Tonight, I’ll wear a pink sequined skirt and we’ll go to our favorite place and I’ll put on Imogen Rose perfume. We’ll be crammed too close to other people and the food won’t be nearly as good. But sacrifices are meant to be made in the name of love.