And the inferiority complex begins..

This morning I received my first Valentine of this red-pink glitter season. It was from Taylor's parents, Alice and Lee and their Corgi, Pippin. I am very lucky to have such wonderful family in my life. However, upon opening this sweet little Valentine, I am reminded of Valentine's Days past. I believe this holiday looks at us expectantly, crossed-arms, eyebrows raised, asking, "How much are you loved?" It questions not of who you love, rather of the number of those who love you.

I remember the elementary memories of filling out my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle valentines, making sure my puppy love crush got the one with Rafael. (Truly, my crush would understand Rafael's quiet intensity and see the quiet intensity of my adoration for his amazing jungle gym skills and bowl-cut hair.) I recall the butterfly excitement, delivering each valentine with care, even for the girl who always smelled different but had these amazing dimples. We would have a small and sugary class party involving cookie decoration and most importantly, the ripping apart of tiny little envelopes revealing the amount of requisite love we have received that year. From all of my recollections, I never endured the devastation of unrequited Ninja Turtle valentine love; I always got a valentine from my crush, even if it was because we all had to give one to each classmate.

To be honest, save for two dry years (seventh grade and senior year of college), I always had a "valentine." I guess that should not qualify me as a bitter, black clothes wearing, valentine emo kid. Rather, I should be a frothy, frilly, pink as cupid's tush cupcake of love. And while I have the best Valentine I have ever had this year (smoochie boochies, Taylor!), I still cringe at this holiday. I guess it started with one of my first real valentines years ago. My first real Valentine's Day was precious and adorable filled with an 8th grade dance and tissue paper flowers. I even got a pink carnation love-o-gram. But the next year, same said valentine was still my valentine, but he forgot; he flat out forgot about Valentine's Day, ignoring the hot pink aisles of romance standing as sentinels at every Harris Teeter, Target or Hallmark in the suburban shopping centers of Charlotte, North Carolina. While in retrospect, his lack of driving and monetary resources probably had something to do with this, but this whole event has since marked me as a cynic of this holiday. I am a hard-line believer in the fact that this holiday is now a cash-cow for the card and candy companies and has instilled a slight inferiority complex in many of us, myself included.


The following statement will be said, written, posted and sighed a whole lot in the next 24 to 36 hours:
"Why do we wait to show our love on Valentine's Day? Everyday we should show our loved ones that they are cared for." However, I believe there is a part of each of us that craves that hallmark validation. We want to open our valentines and feel that this year, more than any year before, we are loved. The truth is that in order to truly celebrate this holiday correctly, we should use this day to make sure everyone we love and care for knows that we love and care for them. Likewise, we should not measure our Valentine's Day success by the number of cards and flowers and candies we receive but by the number of people we can call up, send an email, write a card, give a hug to and know that they truly feel the love we have for them.

So, tonight I will be making a lot of little cards for all the people who need to know I :heart: them.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Truly,
Sara Ellen Bryan