My Valentine's Day


Before I got into a relationship I felt that Valentine's Day was foolish. I don't know exactly why and couldn't explain to anyone why I felt this way. I suspect it was because I was too chicken to believe in love. When I got into a relationship, the Day started feeling sentimental, but I could not persuade my boyfriend into thinking it so, especially since he knew that I, too, thought it silly once. This past Valentine's day found me a couple of months out of a relationship and with fewer friends. It felt lonely.

The suspicion that I am romantic has been with me for a long time now, it is just recently that I have decided to not be ashamed about being so. I don't remember ever feeling lonely on Valentine's Day, or ever admitting to myself about feeling that way. It took me by surprise ( I'm writing this here because I often share my happy thoughts, but I am not always happy, or cheerful and I believe this is very okay). I learned very early that complaining is wasting time, you either do something or you suck it up; same goes for pity-parties. So I thought I would be my own Valentine (since the rest of my family still believe that the day is a load of sentimental nonsense, and they, therefore, wouldn't appreciate me forcing my new sentiments down their throats). I got myself out of bed late, rushed to the groceries and got myself a huge tub of yogurt (my second this month), the three berries, and the most expensive granola I've ever bought (it was worth every penny), but I forgot the honey! Apart from the strawberries being terrible (threw the whole thing out), I was mostly happy with my breakfast and proud of why I was doing it. I am extremely fond of yogurt but I have stayed away because it is bad for my face (dairy = acne). When I checked my messages, I found an insightful message from an Etsy friend, then later a simple but uplifting Valentine's Day greetings from a client. These messages made me feel beautiful emotions.

On my walk to work, I saw a man holding fast onto a ridiculous amount of heart-shaped red balloons--it got extremely windy for a minute and a balloon escaped--I smiled in approval. Right before I got to work, it started drizzling a little: the sun was shining very prettily for a winter's day, and the mixture of light and water in the air, and the reflection of light on the still white snow (left by the snow storm from the day before) was breathtaking. It was sweet and magical. At work a girl walked in with a gigantic stuffed bear and I loved how cheesy it was; later a man walked in with flowers and wanted to buy a jacket for dinner; then a teenage boy wanted help with a pair of pants, again for dinner (I work part-time in a little retail store in a big mall). The girl who was supposed to replace me called out sick, and I agreed to take her shift; suspecting that she had plans. Someone brought cookies for everyone, later someone shared donuts, and the whole time the store's music was most befitting.

Walking home a little after 11pm, I saw a group of young people dressed up for the night, it made me happy because I felt they shared my sentiments for the day. I looked up and noticed the moon was full and I almost cried (it is very likely that I have lost all my marbles but I've a serious something for full moons). The sky was the most beautiful shade of inky blue I had seen in a while, and the weather was pretty nice, not as cold as it had been for a while here in NYC. It felt like my first real Valentine's Day. It was bittersweet and perfect, and I was very full of romantic sentiments and not at all apologetic for any bit of it. I saw beautiful things and felt beautiful things. It felt like life was my Valentine.

Have a beautiful day,
Jane

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