Before I got into a relationship I felt that Valentine’s Day was foolish. I don’t know exactly why and couldn’t explain to anyone why I felt this way. I suspect it was because I was too chicken to believe in love. When I got into a relationship, the Day started feeling sentimental. But I could not persuade my boyfriend into thinking it so; especially since he knew that I, too, thought it silly once. This past Valentine’s day found me a couple of months out of a relationship and with fewer friends. It felt lonely.
The suspicion that I am romantic has been with me for a long time now. It is just recently that I have decided to not be ashamed about being so. I don’t remember ever feeling lonely on Valentine’s Day or ever admitting to myself about feeling that way. It took me by surprise. I write this here because I often share here my happy thoughts. But I am not always happy nor cheerful which is very okay with me.
I learned very early in life that complaining is a waste of time: you either do something about things or you suck them up; same goes for pity-parties. So I thought I’d be my own Valentine––the rest of my family believe the day to be a load of sentimental nonsense, and they wouldn’t appreciate me forcing my new perspective down their throats.
I got myself out of bed late, rushed to the groceries and got a huge tub of yogurt (my second this month), red, blue and black berries; the most expensive granola I’ve ever bought (it was worth every penny), but forgot the honey! Apart from the strawberries being terrible (threw the whole thing out), I was mostly happy with my breakfast and proud of why I was doing it. I am extremely fond of yogurt but I stay away because in my equation, dairy = acne. When I checked my messages, I found an insightful one from an Etsy friend, then later a simple but uplifting Valentine’s Day greeting from a client. These messages made me feel beautiful things.
On my walk to work, I saw a man holding fast onto a ridiculous amount of heart-shaped red balloons––it got extremely windy for a minute and a balloon escaped––I smiled my approval. Right before I got to work, it started drizzling a little. The sun was shining very prettily for a winter day, and the mixture of light and water in the air; the reflection of light on the still white snow left by the snowstorm from the day before was breathtaking. It was sweet, magical.
At work a girl walked in with a gigantic stuffed bear and I loved how cheesy it was; later a man walked in with flowers and wanted to buy a jacket for dinner; then a teenage boy wanted help with a pair of pants, again for dinner––I work part-time in a little retail store in a big mall. The girl who was supposed to replace me called out sick and I agreed to take her shift, suspecting that she had plans. Someone brought cookies for everyone then later someone shared donuts. The whole time, the store’s music was most befitting.
Walking home a little after 11pm, I saw a group of young people dressed up for the night and it made me happy for I felt they shared my sentiments. I looked up and noticed the moon was full and almost cried. It is likely that I have lost all my marbles but I’ve a certain serious something for full moons. The sky was the most beautiful shade of inky blue I had seen in a while, and the weather was pretty nice. Not as cold as it had been for a while here in NYC.
It felt like my first real Valentine’s Day: bittersweet and perfect. I was very full of romantic sentiments and not at all apologetic for any bit of it. I saw beautiful things and felt beautiful things. Life became my Valentine.
Have a beautiful day,
J. A. Odartey
