On Valentine’s Day, some time between morning surgeries and an afternoon full of appointments, I got a call from my farmer.
“This is your Valentine’s present!” he proclaimed. “What?”, I asked. “This call! I’m wishing you a Happy Valentine’s Day!”. I told him that I was impressed that he remembered and he confessed that he hadn’t until the guy on the radio in his tractor mentioned it. I wasn’t shocked, or disappointed. We aren’t big on gifts in general, and my farmer has the sentimentality of a rock. Which really is fine with me. When he asked if I had gotten him a present, I admitted that I hadn’t. I had thought about it a little, but got too busy and didn’t follow through. That’s how I roll. He was relieved.
When I was single, I hated Valentine’s Day with a vengeance. Now that I’m happily married, the day passes exactly as it used to, and I love it. Go figure.