A Valentine

I have never seen Valentine's Day as a commercial holiday. Maybe it is. I have been forever endeared to Valentine's Day because of my father.

My mom is always the crazy one at Christmas, Easter and pretty much every other holiday. She loves to find ways to surprise us and spoil us rotten. Valentine's Day, however, belongs to my father.

Every year growing up, my dad would leave us presents on the kitchen table before he went to work. We would rush downstairs and open gifts before pouring a bowl of cereal. Without fail there would always be a card, candy and a present.

Then he would send flowers to my mom at work. I thought it was the most romantic thing. I was sure that it was a sign of true love. I longed for the day that I would be grown up so that I would get flowers too. I couldn't imagine anything better.

I think my dad's soft-spoken nature made the flowers that much more meaningful. It seemed like the highest honor to receive flowers from my dad. My dad has never been stingy with his affection. He would always tell us that he loved us and that he was proud of us, but on this day we always knew exactly how much he loved each of us.