Dear Valentines

Dear Valentines Day,

I am not liking you this year. You have been the worst ever. I thought that Valentines in elementary school was tough enough; always making pink and red, glittery mailboxes for classmates to put notes and treats into, all of us knowing that it didn't mean anything, but still having to make cards for every kid in the class. Next up, Junior High. Yep, I hated you then too because I only got cards from my friends, who were girls, always telling me that I was a nice girl and good friend. Was it too much to ask for just one boy to like me on that day back then? Apparently. Then the dreadful high school years where every one hooked up for Valentines. Every one except me, because by this point I was too busy with swim, school, and sleeping to care about stupid boys. Sadly, I was still jealous of all the roses and balloons going around. Pish posh!

Well, this year you topped them all. I backed into a parked truck. Me, in my little silver Solstice, which usually has no trouble turning on a dime, could not squeeze out of a parking slot. I didn't see the truck in my rear view until it was too late. Crunch! My heart flew into my throat, my breath caught in my chest, and my hands turned white on the wheel. I kept thinking, "Not now. No, no, no. I can't believe it. No, no, no. Please don't let it be bad. No, no, no!"

I pulled back into the stall and scrambled out. One look at my back bumper and I knew my day was ruined. There was a dent; really big, very ugly, and ridiculously bowl shaped. My hands flew to my face and I scampered over to check the back bumper of the huge, monster truck. Thank goodness it was jacked up as high as it was and had a huge chrome bumper as big as it did, because there was nothing there. Not a ding, not a scratch, not even a forensic trace of "Sly" Pontiac paint. At least that was a relief. Then I looked back at my demolished bumper. "What to do, what to do?" I got into my car, pulled a sheet of paper from my notebook, scribbled down my information and where I had hit the big, ugly truck, and stuck it under their wiper to find. I have a dent on my front wheel well where someone smashed it with their door, but they didn't leave a note, stupid jerks. So, just in case I missed something, I had to leave a note. It is who I am. Then I got in my car, drove around the corner, and parked.

Next up, the phone call to my husband. He was perfect on the phone. The first thing that flew out of his mouth was, "Are you okay? Where are you? I am coming to get you." Cue the flood of ugly tears. It was so good to hear his calm, reassuring voice filled only with concern for me. I told him I was fine, but that was all I could squeak out at the moment. He waited patiently on the phone while I tried in vain to collect myself. After a quick conversation I told him not to worry, to just stay home. I was fine and I was going back to work. When I got off the phone I realized I had missed a call, but they had left a message. I listened. It was the guy I had just hit. He said, "Hey, I really appreciate you leaving the note. I checked my bumper and didn't see anything, so don't worry about it. I hope your day goes a lot better." Insert a huge sigh of relief right here. There were still nice people in the world and I just happened to back my car into one of them.

I took in a gigantic breath and drove back to work. Fortunately I work at a car dealership with a body shop. They told me it would be $700 to fix the bumper, but that didn't include the employee discount. We couldn't afford it, but I couldn't just leave it because the trunk was stuck closed. I told them I would be there tomorrow to have it fixed.

When I got home I got some huge hugs, but Spen still had to go to work. I was miserable and alone all night, left to look back on the day. So thank you Valentines, for reminding me that today isn't about flowers, chocolates, meaningless cards, and glitter. It is about the one thing in my life that matters more than anything else. The man who makes me happy, the one who is there to rescue me, the one I love, and the one who loves me no matter what happens. You were a rotten day, but I think I learned the lesson of Valentines. I don't love you and I don't have to, but I love my husband more than anything. He is the best thing about my life, he is the best thing about every day of my life. He is a huge support. He is thoughtful. He is compassionate. He is kind, generous, street smart, and wonderful. This is for him. I am so lucky to have him, especially when you, the worst Valentines Day ever, came around.

Love,
London