What Valentine’s Day Means to Me 💌

Valentine's Day gets a bad rap.

For years I rolled my eyes and filed it under Hallmark Holiday, assuming it was invented to sell cards, candy, and overpriced dinners. Turns out I was wrong. It's older than Hallmark. It evolved from Roman festivals to saints to poets who decided love deserved its own day.

Still, for me, my favorite part has always been the kids.

I loved giving them little trinkets. Nothing extravagant, nothing that could set a dangerous "you get gifts every year forever" precedent. Just something thoughtful and fun.

But the real gifts? The cards they made for me.

At first they were mandatory school assignments. Fill in the blanks. "I love my mom because..." But then they became their own thing. Longer. More specific and revealing. Not just I love you, but why. What they noticed and what they remembered.

Those are still my best Valentine's gifts. Every one of them.

I won't post them. They're private. Sacred, even. But I still have them all. And I can picture them exactly. The creases, the spelling mistakes, the parts that made me laugh and the parts that undid me.

That's what Valentine's Day reminds me of.

Not roses or reservations. Not proving anything.

Just love. Drawn, written, and given freely. More than enough.