Valentine's Day is one of my favourite of the year, and not for the obvious reasons. In fact, within the context of a relationship I often found it stuffy and unbearable, weighed down by the burden of expectation. But when I had decided to appropriate it for my own use, and send out Valentines I had made to all the people who meant something to me, the day transformed. Last year, I made heart-shaped red velvet cupcakes and gave them to a variety of people, including Arnold's vets. I did it because they were all kind to my scruffy little fellow and I wanted to say thank you. And I wanted the thank you to come from him. So red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese topping.
It being an important day, I wondered and wondered what to put here. A love poem (and I have a thousand of those) would not really suffice. It would not capture what Valentine's means to me.
Then I remembered this story from an old copy of my Chicken Soup books. It encapsulated, I thought, the spirit of the day. So here it is. And to my faithful readers, and to all who come here for the brownie recipe, Happy Valentine's. Enjoy!
Little Chad was a shy, quiet young man. One day he came home and told his mother that he'd like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, 'I wish he wouldn't do that!' because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other. But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided that she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made 35 valentines.
Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement. He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mother decided to bake him his favourite cookies and serve them nice and warm with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed and maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think he wouldn't get many valentines - maybe none at all.
That afternoon, she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, there they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened, she choked back the tears.
"Mommy has some milk and cookies for you," she said. But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was: "Not a one. Not a one."
Her heart sank.
And then he added: "I didn't forget a one. Not a single one."
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