Bah, humbug.
It’s just another day like any other. My husband did go to the Polish Deli and brought me back wonderful imported chocolates–dark with Grand Marnier filling, Dark chocolate covered gingerbread cookies, and some kind of fancy airy wafer rolls covered in coconut that come six to a box. No roses today, because I get one every Friday night; a single long stemmed-red rose that he’s brought me every Friday night since even before we were married. In our small town, he’s know as The Rose Man, and I’m known as the luckiest woman in town. Several times when he’s worked late and hasn’t made it to the florist before they closed, I’ve answered the doorbell to have one of the shop’s ladies deliver the rose to me because they couldn’t wait for him.
We decided not to waste five or six dollars on cards. Actually, he tried slipping me cards from previous years once he knew I saved them. I appreciated his frugality. Little things mean a lot.
What did I get this seemingly perfect man? Nothing. He doesn’t like candy, plus the sugar’s not good for him. I promised him I’d make a super dinner, but he had a buddy coming over so he wanted kielbasi and sauerkraut fresh from the Polish market. I suppose I could promise sexual favors for later this evening, but honestly now, after sauerkraut?
No, I guess with at least four kisses and hugs a day, and weekly roses, and special dinners cooked five nights out of seven, Valentine’s Day is no more special than any other.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
a rose a week is so romantic. that is sooooo sweet. enjoy the rest of your weekend.
That is beautiful.