I never thought I’d write those words. I mean, who am I kidding. We’re always seemingly apart on Valentine’s Day. I’d (mostly) gotten used to it by now. I’ve never been the biggest fan of the “holiday” anyway, mainly only because I like decorating for it, and baking for it, but I personally don’t need a day to show my family and husband how much I love them, I do it everyday, much less receiving gifts “just because.” I was never a fan of “Every kiss begins with Kay” and all that nonsense. I don’t need fancy jewelry or expensive items to know my husband loves me, or vice versa.
I didn’t expect anything this year. He’s out of the country, and hardly able to call, let alone ship something. But that didn’t stop him.
I don’t recall what it was that originally awoke me, but there I was, eyes blurrily opened, peering at my oldest son seemingly glaring at me in the middle of the night. I asked him what was wrong, and he just sat there, creepily staring. I wasn’t sure to be pissed or afraid. He continued staring.
“Go to bed, baby.”
I closed my eyes, and hadn’t realized he hadn’t left. Not until he rustled something and awoke me again. And again, he was staring at me, awkwardly, like the cat who ate the canary. “What the hell are you doing!? Go to sleep!”
But he still didn’t budge. He just sat there, frozen in place. My tired eyes gave in and I drifted off once more. When I heard the rustling again, this time instead of full on waking, I merely peeked. Surely there was something wrong, and, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to tell me.
It was then I saw it; the red paper with pink and white hearts on it, with a box of chocolates and a card. He was doing his best to prop up a bunch of presents for me. Presents I had no knowledge of, and, for all I knew at that moment, they were presents from my kids to me. No matter how many times I would wake and interrupt him, telling him to go to bed, he not only wasn’t going to tell me, he wasn’t going to come up with an explanation at 5 o’clock in the morning, and he wasn’t going to stop, either.
I pretended to have fallen back asleep. I pretended to not hear him as he’d crinkle and then sit and watch me, to see if I’d wake, only to crinkle once more, and then sit and wait again. I have no idea how much time passed before he succeeded in placing everything. He did his best to not wake me, not realizing just how light of a sleeper I really am. It took every ounce of me not to fully wake and sob at the gesture.
In the morning, my son proudly strutted into the room. “Do you see what I did for you, mom?”
“Yes. Yes, dude. Thank you SO much…”
He then told me all about it, how he even found the perfect card for his dad to give to me. The pride beaming from him helped wake me up that morning better than coffee ever could. That loving gesture stuck with me all through the rest of the day, making me smile at random moments.
My husband might not have been stateside this Valentine’s Day, but that didn’t stop him from making this one my most memorable and best Valentine’s Days ever. Add in the fact that he enlisted the help of my son to accomplish this? Seriously brownie points, husband-type person.
You know, we might not have a lot of money, the biggest house, the fanciest furniture or the swankiest of cars, but this crazy amount love we have in this already over-sized family? Is so much, so so much, and yet, it’s all I want, need, and crave. It’s no wonder I constantly leak tears from my eyeballs chock-filled with emotion; the love I have for these people just don’t stop pouring into and out of me, ever.
Even after all these years, he still finds a way to make me fall back in love with him all over again.