Valentines Day

Just because I'm single doesn't mean I hate Valentine's Day. Quite to the contrary actually. I understand how Valentine's Day could make someone feel more alone and lonely than normal. For me that's just not the case. I love Valentine's Day, or maybe I just love chocolate. Whatever the reason, I am genuinely fond of Valentine's Day.

When I was away at college every Valentine's Day my dad would drive up and see me, bringing flowers and chocolate. I may not always agree with him, he may drive me absolutely crazy like only fathers can, but I love him. Being the first daughter after three boys it was kind of destiny that I would be the little princess, that I would be daddy's little girl. He greets me with "hi pumpkin" more often then not, and at 23 I love the fact that I'm still his little girl.

Just thinking of it makes me tear up. I'm not kidding, I'm literally crying here and anyone that knows me would tell you I don't cry. That's the thing, I usually don't. But where my family is concerned I've got a soft spot a mile wide. My dad is a big man, at least he was when I was growing up. I'm not talking big in the American sense, I'm talking 6 ft 2 in, big broad shoulders and arms that can only be acquired from decades of hard labor. He's a carpenter, has been my whole life. He's big and gruff with work roughened hands, quiet in an almost off-putting way. Most people find him a little intimidating or scary when they first meet him, probably since he really doesn't talk all that much, well at least to strangers. Those of us among his family and friends can't seem to get him to shut up. The thing about my dad is he's a little old fashioned, a stickler but still a softy. He blows a lot of hot air, cries during movies, will always, always be the first to lend a helping hand and adores my mom. After almost forty years, despite fighting every month around bill paying time, and regardless of everything else, he worships the ground she walks on.

Once a year my dad would climb in his truck after a long day at work and drive two hours to see me knowing full well he'll have to drive another two hours just to get home to his bed that night. It reminds me that I'm loved, that I was a loved and pleasant surprise, the blessed byproduct of the love my parents share. The fact that my father, who spent his entire adult life working hard to provide for his family, who has spent more nights than I can count up in pain from failing joints, would get in his truck after work when his body is already sore and tired beyond belief and drive for four hours just to bring a perfectly content college student flowers, chocolates and love from home, humbles me.

I don't hate Valentines day, despite being single, despite the fact that my big plans consist of watching someone else's kids so they can go out. Unlike the December holidays, Valentines Day hold no loneliness for me. I don't think of romantic love when I think of the 14th of February. I think of family. The family that loves me enough to probably spend the next two days hobbling around on sore knees from spending too much time sitting, especially in a car, the family that makes me feel safe and warm in a cold world of hate and violence, the family that never makes me feel inferior or inadequate, even when I sometime am. Despite Hallmark and Hollywood, Valentines Day for me is a day for family and I love it as much as any other holiday regardless of my relationship statues.

However a truly depressing holiday to be single on, is the Fourth of July. There is absolutely nothing more depressing than having to watch fireworks alone.