At this time of year, when the tills of florists, card shops and chocolate emporia go “ker-ching,” the world is suddenly filled with red heart-shaped helium balloons, and I’ve often been known to become a little cynical.
I love ‘love’, and I love being told I’m loved and I love loving the people I love, but, and it is a big, but, I do struggle with the huge amount of money spent at Valentine’s Day on meals that are that bit more expensive than they usually are and, well, the whole thing really. I used to love the idea of anonymous Valentine’s cards and remember trying to disguise my writing in them at school or trying to decipher coded messages to see if I could work out who a card was from. I also know and do remember the bitter disappointment when no card arrived, or if the rose that did come wasn’t a huge bunch of them. (Yes, I was that shallow as a teenager … and constantly disappointed!!!)
I remember seeing friends sad because they didn’t get remembered, or weren’t in a relationship with someone who would tell them they were loved. Valentine’s Day has over the years made me a little cross … I sound like a very dull stuck record I’m sure saying we should let people know how loved they are all year round and not just on a day that Hallmark or some other commercial enterprise stands to make a fortune out of. We don’t need a4 special day. All that being said, I have in the past spent a relative fortune on boyfriends in hotels, restaurants and on socks with hearts on, entries in a national newspaper using pet names (I know I know) and so on … I guess we all have, and I have had barren years and years when I’ve been swamped with love.
The only Valentine constant from my childhood to now has been the card I get every year from my mother. I always know it’s from her, of course, I know her handwriting and recognise the flowers and pictures she always draws … When I was small I loved the cards, when I was an obnoxious teenager they embarrassed me but I secretly loved them and for many years now they have been what I look out for – something I treasure. I always post one to my mother, and I used to send my father one too … both cards signed “Guess who?” just as theirs were to me.
Last year I didn’t really register Valentine’s Day, I think I was still in shock from having had a baby, too absorbed in her and our own private bubble to be aware of the outside world. Her father did give me flowers, I’m sure I didn’t thank him properly and I think I sent him a card. And my mother, as always sent me a card.
This year it will be a bit different – I will post a card to Hope. I believe in using the post, it adds to making the day special … all too easy to hand a card over or just leave it on the kitchen table.
I’ll send a card to my mother, because she is my mother, my remarkable, patient, bright, supportive ever loving mother and best friend whom I love so very much. Without her, I wouldn’t be here let alone with a heart so very full. And, I’ll send a card to Hope’s father (probably two one from her and one from me).
This year for me, though, it isn’t about anyone else; there is no choice, Hope is my Valentine. Hope, my little girl, the little scrap of humanity that was ‘untimely ripped’ a month early from my middle just over a year ago has allowed me to love, unconditionally, totally and utterly. I’m sure when she’s a teenager with spikey hair and tattoos, chain smoking and slamming doors screaming that she hates me because I don’t understand her I may scratch my head and wonder, but I’ll still love her.
I tell her I love her every day, many, many times every day and now, for the first time, ever, I can’t wait to choose a card, a pretty one with a red heart on it, perhaps with a cherub, or flowers, and write a message in it …I know the message I’m going to write … Mr Springsteen wrote the words that I’m going to steal. It’s not one of my favourite of his songs but I’m going to steal the title anyway, as his words are (as always) just right, and dedicate it to my girl. In fact, you know what, I’m going to make her a card. I might be using second-hand words, but the card will be unique, special and just for her.
“Hope,” I’ll write, “My love will not let you down” and then I’ll sign it, “Guess who.”