All the romantic longings and deluded yearnings we keep folded and
tucked away in rose-colored recesses of our heart, rise up like Thor,
God of Thunder, on St. Valentines Day. Thor’s hammer would carry
no more pain than what we call down on ourselves in foolish dreams
of might have been, should have been or never will be.
On February 14, every woman of every age should be issued one tall,
dark, handsome somebody to share long loving looks and dinner over
candlelight. Cold pizza and Lean Cuisine in front of the TV isn’t
so bad, most of the time. And kisses from a schnauzer are as true
as love gets. But on Valentine’s Day, the fairy tales and happily
ever-afters of little girls’ dreams, can rise like a viper,
striking right at the heart.
On Valentine’s Day, we look for the knight. We check the closet
for shining armor, search the deck for tethered white steeds, close
our eyes in anticipation of a kiss from the handsome prince.
Unfortunately, he has missed his cue. Endangered as a species and
overcome by overstuffed expectations, knights in shining armor are
scarce as hen’s teeth. The few remaining, we believe, reside
firmly fixed in the arms of vigilant, size six princesses. That leaves
the rest of us, watching Jeopardy and wondering where we went wrong.
We feel the self-recrimination, that somehow it’s our own fault
our prince hasn’t come, or worse, come and gone. Valentine’s
night is an evening of “If only”s. It’s a night
for remembering love lost, love found, and love pureed. Looking through
the glass darkly, we see what we wish we had. Maybe it’s real,
maybe illusion, but the pain is real. On Valentine’s Day, we
would give anything to see that face, feel that touch, ride that carriage
into the clouds.
For many women, Valentine’s Day is a day of memory for husbands
that have passed away. The fortitude of our mothers and grandmothers,
facing a solitary existence after a lifetime of partnership, is astounding.
Alone on St. Valentine’s Day, they will look across the dining
room table for the familiar features and grieve anew. If only….
For other women, Valentine’s is when the clock ticks loudest,
when it must be confronted that another year has passed and still
no suitable mate has been found. We were told there’s a lid
for every pot. What if our lid lives in Bolivia? The specter of missed
opportunities and bad decisions is the ghost of Valentine’s
Day Present. If only…
For some, February 14 is a day of mental house cleaning – good
riddance to bad rubbish. He’s gone and we’re glad and
we mean it. The crying is over, the pieces coming together. It’s
just today, the one day, the lover’s day, that the sadness creeps
back. If only….
Maybe on Valentine’s Day, we should remember situations worse
than alone. It’s better to be one complete woman than half of
a couple whose mate belittles, abuses or cheats. It’s better
to be a woman standing alone than a woman being dragged down. It’s
better to be a woman loving life than one who dreads the day. It’s
better to give your heart to your work, homeless animals or any good
cause than to a mate who won’t cherish it.
Love is love and we have plenty to share. Let Valentine’s Day
be about loving – ourselves, our friends, those who help us,
those who need us, and those who are, by birth or camaraderie, our
family. Then, none of us will be alone on St. Valentines Day.
Send an Email About This Article