Which stage are you?:
First time I heard of Valentine’s Day, I was 11 years old. There was a single plastic rose shoved into a bookshelf at home. When I asked, Mom said Dad had given it to her for Valentine’s Day. That was the first and last I heard of my parents acknowledging Valentine’s Day.
At 15, Valentine’s Day suddenly became a big deal because it separated the popular girls from the rest of us. Man, I so wanted to get flowers and chocolates from a secret admirer too. But being the rare Indian and having my Mom as a teacher at my school pretty much sealed my doomed fate in the V-Day department.
From 19 to my mid-20s, I was childishly excited to officially have a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day. But most of the time, my Rajinikanth-diehard-fan boyfriend’s expectations about it were quite different from my chick flick ones.
On the way to my late 20s, I increasingly felt Valentine’s Day was a crappy, commercialised affair. Anniversaries like my wedding were more meaningful.
And then the kids arrived one by one.
Valentine’s Day? Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Last week, Anne excitedly handed me a card. The envelope was covered with her scribbles. Inside was an empty Valentine’s Day card.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mummy!” she shouted. As usual, Tresa joined in the yelling, without knowing anything.
Laughing and puzzled at the same time, I glanced at the Mr.
“I was buying you a card,” he said, exasperated. “And she hijacked it.”
This Valentine’s Day, my heart melts over ‘team work’ between the Mr and the girls for this cheesy card. Commercialised or not, considering how busy we are, I suppose we need these dedicated days to remind us to show our loved ones we love them. And to feel loved in return.
p/s Happy Valentine’s Day to you too