I’m walking to the train on a damp, chilly Thursday and in my mind, it’s just the day before Friday but to the rest of the world, it’s the day before Valentine’s Day. There’s an obnoxious amount of holiday-related merchandise for sale on the garbage-ridden sidewalk of my neighborhood. I can’t help but think about how ridiculous it all looks. Is it just me? I think about taking a picture and posting it with some snarky remark but then I realize it doesn’t matter. Some thoughts can be kept to myself and there is some girl out there who will be so happy to get one of those stupid stuffed bears tomorrow. Just not me.
I used to make such a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. I’d either celebrate by going out to a nice dinner or actively not celebrate by going out to a nice dinner. What can I say? I love nice dinners.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and nobody is going to buy me flowers or send me chocolate or take me out to dinner and that’s ok. I don’t need any of that to remind me that there is love in my life. My life is full of love in places that I never even imagined before. Small things. Soft moments. Simple pleasures. Life is good.
Happy Valentine’s Day.