Be My Valentine

That’s two weeks in a row my husband has made me breakfast.  I’m up far too early for it to be a breakfast-in-bed event. Last week was Valentine’s Day.  This week was not.

A man from the carpet shop was coming around to measure the stairs, landing and one of the spare bedrooms for new carpets. It was good we were up and about as he arrived early, poked his measuring tape into various corners, did the arithmetic in his head and said he would be back with a price once he got back to the shop.

Last week I had got the date wrong. Valentine’s Day snuck up on me and I wasn’t prepared.  No card, no chocolates – nothing. I think my husband likes to have one up on me and he dines on it for years later.  One year, I forget where we were, but we bought exactly the same cards for each other. This year there was just the one card – big and glittery and pack full of sentiment.

I held a card in my hand as I was in the local shop buying the papers and a bottle of milk. It wasn’t for a husband, but for a boyfriend, but I’m well capable of scribbling out unwanted titles on cards and replacing them with my own.  In this particular incident that would have had a look of desperation about it.

Then I had an idea.  I have often written love poems to Joe – in cards, books, bits of paper hidden in the lunch box – and thought about bringing some of them together in some way. I’ve done similar things before – a sheet of A4 paper folded up into a little book.  Unfolded, the paper reveals lots of little poems.  I have done a few different ones and I love them and actually think I could market them.

So I set to work, digging out old anniversary or Valentine’s cards, birthday cards and searching through recipe books and so on. The search was a wonderful experience of rediscovering tenderness and passion anew.  I’m not saying that romance has turned cold, because it hasn’t, but it’s always good to be stirred. 

It was a joy to make.  My husband has it tucked in his wallet and shows to people he meets. This week had been a hard one and he tells me that every so often he has read through the poetry and it has brought a smile to his face. He knows himself to be loved and valued.

I have also had my challenges this week and to know that I have done one thing, at least, that has blessed someone brings a smile to my face.