I looked yesterday at the store and hated every single Valentine’s Day card on the rack. They have the singing ones with Toby Keith. They have the gaudy ones, which aren’t my style. The sleek and classy ones cost around $4. Four dollars for a piece of paper that gets thrown away.
No, that’s not good enough. At least this way, maybe archive.org will hold onto it forever (except in the event of nuclear holocaust).
I’m not that big on the stereotypical Valentine’s Day stuff. Roses, extravagantly priced for no other reason than that it’s This Day, are nice but don’t last. Chocolate is delicious, and I’m always a fan, but I can have chocolate every day.
What matters to me is not that you show me on one day of the year that I’m important to you, but that you show me every single day with the little things you do. It’s that you empathize when I’m feeling marginalized by others. It’s that you ask for my advice on trivial things. It’s that you treat me as an equal partner in our marriage. It’s that you thank me for cooking even when I’m lazy and feed everyone hot dogs with macaroni and cheese. It’s that you call me when you’re on your way home just to let me know you’ll be here soon. It’s that you help so much with the kids. It’s that you give all of yourself to help me without expecting anything in return. I don’t acknowledge all these little things (and sometimes big things) as much as I should, but I promise I’m paying attention.
Life isn’t always perfect, but it’s indescribably better with you because you’re always on my side. I love you, Greg. Happy Valentine’s Day, and here’s to many, many more.