When I was a young girl, I had all of the romantic notions that tend to come with Valentine's Day. I always day-dreamed that a boy that I liked would give me a valentine and profess his love for me, and that, when I did find the boy of my dreams, we would spend Valentine's Day eating chocolate while giving each other gifts and cards, and eating dinner by candlelight.
I had high expectations for my poor husband in the first few years of our Valentine's Days together, and I was always disappointed -- the guy never stood a chance. I always wanted him to take me out to dinner and buy me flowers and shower me in gifts -- he gave me the flowers and gifts, but I never got the dinner -- and for some reason, I always felt empty on Valentine's Day, like the flowers and gifts weren't what I really wanted.
It wasn't until a few years later that I would realise that I didn't need Valentine's Day. I know it sounds cliche, but I'm not a big Valentine's Day person. I no longer expect flowers and gifts, because what I really want is to spend time with my husband every single day of the year. I love being with him; going to movies with him; driving in the car with him; talking to him. That will always be enough for me. I need nothing more.
In our earlier years, my husband would always give me gifts and write me poems -- he still writes me poems, but not as often as I would like. The other day, I was going through a special box where I have stashed my most precious letters and photographs, and found a poem that he had written for me as a gift on our very first Valentine's Day. I had given him a ring as a gift, and he apologised in the poem that he had no gift for me, save for the poem. I have no idea where his ring is, but I still have the poem.
Here is a small excerpt:
"The love of one another, is shown on this special day
This day is very happy, not at all grey
You are with the one you love, for as long as you can be
I know for sure with all my heart, the day will be perfect as long as you I see"