Beloved

The name “Amy” means “beloved,” thus Valentine’s Day seems like it would be my perfect holiday. Love floats through the air on little cherubic bubbles like fizzing champagne. There are sparkling diamond treasures in velvet boxes, dozens of long stemmed red roses, and heart-shaped troves of chocolates. There are Hallmark cards dripping pink with passion. There are romantic kisses and expensive dinners to prove to your partner that your love is true. So, why then, does St. Valentine make me feel blue?

As a little girl, I loved Valentine’s Day. There was pink – lots of pink. There were hearts – lots of hearts. And there was the elementary school card exchange. I would get my box of paper cartoon cards – Popples, Rainbow Brite, Garfield. I was never particular about the pictures, but I did care who received each card. Much deliberation went into the one for my crush, for there was a major distinction between a card that stated “Be cool” and one that too obviously declared “I’m yours.” Cards completed, I would cut apart long strips of Midwood’s heart shaped lollipops, the red glucose syrup candy shining like ruby baubles in the cellophane wrappers, and tape one to each Valentine. Mom always bought extras so that I could indulge in the cracked ones. I wonder now if there was a hidden message in the fact that the broken hearts were just as loved. 

As a teenager, my joy for Valentine’s Day started to wane. Long gone were the days when everyone in the class received a Valentine, even if you didn’t particularly like the deliverer. This was junior high and high school, and only the cool kids caught Cupid’s arrow. The popular girls paraded around with their oversized plush teddy bears. Cloying drugstore perfume filled the classrooms and balloons blocked views of the blackboard. And if that wasn’t enough of a kick in the face to the single gals, the student council fundraiser made a big deal of selling carnations. The lucky girls, or those smart enough to secretly buy their own, carried around bundles of flashy red and pink flowers all day long. I prayed that February 14th would fall on a weekend, so I wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of not being admired so boldly.

Later as a young adult, I fully dreaded the sticky, saccharine holiday. It was less about the commercial aspect of the holiday and more about the partnerships – or lack thereof. Society made it seem like everyone who’s everyone should be out on the town having a romantic steak dinner and a strawberry cheesecake dessert complete with a marriage proposal. So while women slipped on cocktail dresses and high heels and carefully applied luscious scarlet lipstick to woo their dates, I settled down in my rumpled pajamas with popcorn and a Hallmark movie. I still loved the idea of ‘love’ and believed in “happy ever afters,” but the showy proclamation synonymous with the holiday made my heart feel blue and my name seem untrue.

Eventually love wrapped her wings around me when I met my future husband. My heart grew a field of flowers, and I soon became one of those lucky girls. The first few years, I possessed the sappy cards, the perfect romantic dinners, and the beautiful diamond earrings. I was Amy, and I finally felt ‘beloved.’ Shortly after finding my forever partner, the spirited February day settled back into the realm of Hallmark movies and Valentine’s Day became just another day as affection was shown all year round. 

So why then does this holiday of hearts still make me feel a bit sad?

Because I know that there are others out there – young singles, unhappy couples, those who have loved and lost – who might be feeling lonesome on Valentine’s Day. People who might be feeling like all of that glittery love confetti in the air is annoying or out of reach. And I feel like they need a soft reminder that love isn’t measured in one day. It is not contained in consumerism, and it is not reserved for romance. It is ever present and often quite simple. 

Several years ago, I wrote a little poem, and every February 14th, I recited it to my adolescent students to let them know that despite the hype of the holiday they, too, are beloved – every single day. Today, I offer it to you.

“I have something I want to say.

From me to you, in the sweetest way.

It’s just three words, but what the hey!

From me to you, Happy Valentine’s Day!”