One of my favorite parts of those early Valentine Days was working with my mother to create a special "valentine box" to take to school. There was always a slot cut into the top to make it function like a mailbox, and most of mine were covered in ruffles of red and white crepe paper, with paper doilies and hearts stuck on the top. That red crepe paper bled like an accident victim when it got a little water on it, which it always seemed to do somehow.
While I was thinking about valentines, I suddenly remembered a little boy I hadn't thought of in decades. He had a crush on my little sister when they were both in first or second grade. His name was Charlie (Charley?) Hart, and he once sent her a love note on which he had carefully printed, "You are my weethart." I thought that was hilarious, and I'm sure I must have called her "weethart" for weeks after that. Do you remember him, Sis?
Love feels sweet and warm on this day or any day, don't you think?

4 Comment(s):
A sweet story on a sweet day. Thank you.
Oh, I hadn't thought of those Valentine's "mailboxes" in years-we made them too! And I do remember agonizing over which ones to give to which people.
I alway counted how many valentines I got and considered the number a measure of my freinds.
i never thought I got enough and felt deprived. it is amazing what we do to our selves.
Duly Inspired, it's good to hear from you. I've missed you on your blog.
Janet, I wonder if kids today do anything like that. I'd bet that, if they're allowed to hand out valentines at all, they have to give one to everybody.
Patsy, now that we're older and wiser, we know better than to measure the number of our friends by the valentines we receive. Now we measure them by the number of comments we get on our blogs, LOL. You're right, it IS amazing what we do to ourselves.
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