Just another Monday in Paradise

     Valentines Day has never been my favorite holiday.  Having grown up plain, and built like a linebacker, I was not one to get Valentines from the opposite sex.  I was loud, and knew nothing about that art called flirting.  Hard to get?  Try hard to escape!  Really, it just was not a day I "celebrated" love, or anything else.
     I've only had one special someone during any Valentines Day, and even those fifteen Valentines Days were only scattered with what one could call romance.  There were some nice weekend getaways, and in the beginning, very nice jewelry.  But, I was not a jewelry gal.  Not the only-wear-when-going-"out" kind, anyway.  This may have been a disappointment to my someone.  What, then, is a man to give?  I love bouquets of flowers, but he wouldn't send those because they wouldn't last.  He was willing to send roses, which are beautiful, and smell wonderful, but they are not my favorite.  Eventually, we forwent gifts altogether.  And not long after, just mumbled the traditional greeting to each other.
     My Dad always left a big Valentine heart of candy at our places at the table.  He worked 16 hours a day, and managed to remember to sign a card for each of us.  Even though  he once was so tired he signed his name, rather than "Dad", it was a treasured treat.  He will be gone ten years in four days.  Hopefully, he's met Russel and Stover and Whitman to thank them for quick, easy...tasty gift ideas.
     I've been divorced for three years now.  My Valentine these days is my son.  Of course, he would just d i e if  he read that, but it's true.  I told him from the time he was very, very young he was my Best Guy, and I still tell him that.  And he still is.  "Forever and ever, my baby he'll be."
     Today, I was to have a date.  Informal, casual meeting of two souls looking for someone to "hang" with.  In perfect Valentine fashion, I was stood up.  It should not surprise me.  It should make me cry, right?  It doesn't.  Am I angry?  Damn straight.  Bitter?  Yep.  But, it is, after all, just Monday.  In two days I have a bone scan to determine the cause of my hip pain.  In three days I will pause to remember my Dad.  A man that worked too hard...for us.  Played too little...our loss.  And loved very deeply...with no idea how to show it.  But, he was my Valentine when I was young.  At least I could count on that.