". . . Yet You're My Favorite Work of Art . . ."

I've spent most of this day at the emergency room with one of my favorite valentines, my older daughter. She is at home now, recovering nicely from an unbearable headache that may have been caused by dehydration, stress, a migraine, or some combination thereof. The doctor couldn't be sure, but at least other, more serious possibilities have been ruled out, and an IV cocktail of fluids and medications got rid of the nausea and turned down the headache several notches.

Her sister, my other favorite valentine, spent her lunch hour at the E.R. with us, a thoughtful, pleasant visit that reminded me once again what it means to be a family. We stick together. When one of us hurts, we all do. And when we're together, even the sickest among us joins in the laughter.

I dropped off my ailing daughter at her house (where I hope she is sleeping soundly now) and came home to dig out some Valentine's cards my girls made when they were children. These letter-sized, cardstock Valentines--indeed, all the cards and drawings they made when they were little--are unquestionably my favorite works of art. I'm sure every mother among you understands why.

The card in the lower left-hand corner of the photo reads:

To My Family
I love you!
You are the 3 best and lovable people I know. I will love you all as long as I live.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Thank You
(inside) for being a wonderful family.

The card isn't signed, and I no longer remember which daughter made it. I guess it doesn't really matter. The number 3 has expanded over the years to include another couple of generations of family, but the sentiment remains strong. Any of us could have written the same thing today.

Happy Valentine's Day to those of you who firmly believe in the power of love and to those of you who need to believe in it. That should cover everybody.