Man the morning always comes, huh?

It rained last night and was cold and grey, but I woke up this morning to the Carolina chickadees and the sun coming up at 6:13 am and it felt like a metaphor.

I wait with baited breath for my one favorite chickadee though- he has a unique call and it thrills me every time I hear him, year after year, and I haven’t heard him yet. I’m a little worried- they can live for 11 years but 4-5 is more common. He’s exceeded that already. (Et tu this year, chickadee?) There is still hope for my buddy though. I haven’t written him off yet.

There are a few wild things that have made it to the the categories of “buddies” to me- it’s that one chickadee, the neighborhood nesting pair of yellow crowned night herons, the black swallowtail butterfly caterpillars on my fennel plants, and the one little jumping spider on my desk.

Next tier are most neighborhood cats, the neighborhood foxes, and the armadillos even though they rip up the front lawn. The giant mouse spiders in the back are higher up than the deer on this tier system, but maybe it’s the novelty of them more than anything else. And the goddamn sparrows making a mess in the backyard and eating all the expensive birdseed are the very bottom. I understand Mao Zedong with that one, but since we know how that one turned out I leave the sparrows alone.

Anyway.

So yes, today, February 15th, has come and the world is all wet from the rain last night and the birds are out and its 57 degrees and will get into the 70s later today. Pretty glorious. I’ll probably garden again like I did last Sunday instead of watching the Super Bowl- lots of progress was made in those 5 hours. I bought, loaded, unloaded, and spread 14 bags of compost and mulch. Pruned all the roses, and did less weeding than I needed to do. I was going to plant some fennel and rue I bought, but it’s supposed to get into the 20s next week, so maybe not. It’s so hard to predict, the weather. Four years ago, today was Snowmaggedon in Texas. Today it’s like this:

There is a metaphor there, somewhere.

So yesterday- it went okay. I may have cried more on the 13th, honestly. I’m finding that is par for the course on such things so I wasn’t surprised by it. (the day before being emotionally harder than the day of.)

I wrote Lucas his love letter and put it on his nightstand with some cut flowers from outside. That part isn’t new- I’ve always given him flowers and put them by his side of the bed. Men deserve flowers too. And men deserve romantic flourishes too.

It’s funny, he was a romantic and so I mirrored him as I knew no other way- so he got to reap those benefits all these years. How lucky. How lucky for both of us. I look at it from the outside and it makes me happy he lived so much of his life getting flowers and love letters and romantic gestures and surprises. And all because I was just reflecting his own habits back at him. We should make each other better in relationships, it should be the bar we measure by. And to do so not by force but by example.

Last night, before bed, I put my letter to him in the box I keep our other love letters in and I picked one at random from him to read. It was Valentine’s 2023 (I figured it was Valentines because my name was written in red pen on the front of the paper. I was right.) He ended the letter by writing: “It is my greatest joy that I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” Oof, my love. Right in the everything with that one. But you sure did, my Baby. You sure did. I was lucky enough to get that too.

If only it could have been longer.

Before that, on Valentines Day morning, I went with one of my aunts while she got wrist tattoos. She’s wanted them for a while and they’re messages to herself of significance. They turned out great and she handled it like a champ- especially considering that is one of the most painful places to get tattooed. She asked a month or so ago if that morning would be good for the appointment and if I could go with her, and honestly it worked perfectly, as getting up and out and not thinking about myself was probably a good thing. And it did pan out like that. We had breakfast before the appointment and talked lots and lots. It was good.

One of my other aunts (Hi Aunt Val!) sent me flowers and balloons for the girls. I really appreciated that- so special to be thought of ahead of time- with planning and forethought and follow through. So incredibly special.

I have good examples on how to do this role, I tell you. I take being an aunt very seriously. What a special thing, all these more than immediate family relationships are such a benefit to have. Where would I be without my aunts? Cousins? Uncles? My husband’s cousins, and aunts, and uncles… it seems to stretch to the horizon, you know? It sometimes feels a little out of time in the modern world as well. Not everyone has such a huge and involved family, or has good ones in such excess of the dickheads. How lucky.

Anyway, sorry- we were at the morning of Valentine’s Day- that’s what I was writing about.

Right as I was heading out with my aunt the school councilor called and said my youngest had remembered her box, but left the bag of the actual valentines at home. Shoot. She sure did. When I said I was JUST heading out for an appointment but could run them by the school first, he said he could pick them up and he’d bring them to her right to her classroom if I’d just put them on the porch. And that’s what he did? Like… again. This feels like a 1960s thing. But as you can see. Community and fellow humans holds us up. Favors and kindnesses abound. How lucky.

In the evening my oldest came over and I cooked fillet mignon with cream sauce for all three girls and made mashed potatoes and cheaped out and did bagged salad instead of making one, but still. Look at that! An honest to god meal!

And they were the first steaks I’ve ever cooked, but they were perfect. Thank god. Some of watching Lucas do it all these years DID rub off, at least. It was the exact meal we have cooked for Valentines Day previously too, in the before time. So the continuity was nice.

I still have a block about the empty chair to my right at the table though. We ate in front of the TV and watched Groundhog Day and it was just awesome. The girls loved the food and the movie (as did I) and I had a couple of glasses of champagne in one of our wedding flutes. I now own no other champagne flutes as I guess in a fit of donating I got rid of them in the summer- I don’t recall doing this, mind you. But the other champagne glasses are gone so I must have.

Early grief me was so sure she would never have anything to toast to, ever again. I’m glad she was wrong. So I used the really really special one, and that felt okay too. And I filed away a message from the movie about what you would do and who would you become if you were trapped in an existence you have no control over.

Anyway.

Even hard and filled with loss, I still made it a good day and that seems like an accomplishment, if I do say. A day filled with love still. Just as it should be.

Again- as I have said these nigh on 26 years- I have nothing but contempt for people who say they don’t like the holiday. Because they might as well be saying they don’t like love. And THAT would be as foreign to me as saying you don’t like laughter. Oh the best thing on the planet and what binds us all together and is pure joy? No? Not a fan? Get outta here, you know? And I know some people put on about it being a fake or commercial holiday but to that I say:

Exactly.

In other things the bathroom looks done if I very carefully pull in the shot and from one angle. (Walls still need to be done)

And in other news, my neck has been giving me kittens for over a week now.

My friend Jen, a massage therapist, brought her table by and I paid her for a massage on Wednesday to try to unlock my neck. (A result of stress, anticipation for the holiday, all that damn gardening last week, plus two new pillows that can go straight to hell). Anyway- it’s almost there. Maybe one more massage and another week of stiffness. Mid-massage she gasped and had me sit up to see- a big red tailed hawk had just landed on my fence, right across the yard and through the open window. It was amazing to see, so close up.

I’ll take it.

I’ll take it all, you know?

There is good out there, everywhere. I resolve to focus on it. Very much like this:

Occasionally going too far and into this territory:

Better than the alternative, at least.

Till next time.