We’re apart this year on Valentines Day, me and The Cinnamon Girl. And that’s fine.
February 14 is what one might call “just another day” on the calendar. It really doesn’t carry much special significance for us. It’s not the day we got engaged, the day we were married, the anniversary of our first date or anything like that. No, it’s just a day set aside by consumer culture for buying cards and candy and flowers.
But this post isn’t really a rant about commercialism. Not at all. It’s actually a reflection on the idea of “just another day.”
Any day I get to spend with my Cinnamon Girl isn’t “just another day.” Every day I get to spend with her is special and must be treasured. Every day I get to spend with my wife, no matter what we are doing, is time I want to stretch out and expand.
Every hour. Every minute. Every day.
I don’t tell my Cinnamon Girl this kind of thing enough. I should tell her every day.
So, today, while we are apart (I’m just back from a West Coast trip, she’s in Washington, DC) I tell her what I think she already knows.
I love you.