Story by Katherine Marrone
Illustration by Bailey Meyers
It’s February 14, 2000, in Brooklyn, New York. I am in Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s third grade class, fidgeting in my seat and waiting for my name to be called. One by one, my classmates go up and get their bags full of valentines. Bags full of hope, crushes, and potential heartbreaks.
Finally, my name is called. I jump up, grab my bag of valentines out of Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s hands, and skip back to my seat. I barely sit down before I empty the bag onto my desk, careful not to drop a single one on the floor. Hurriedly, I read through each one, keeping close attention to the cards adorned with sloppy boy handwriting. There’s a Spiderman valentine from Kyle (doesn’t he know that I don’t like Spiderman?). There’s a Power Rangers valentine from Willy (at least it’s the pink Power Ranger).
My cheeks flame when I read who the next valentine is from. Alejandro. It’s a Harry Potter Valentine. It was destiny. How did he know my obsession with the series? How could he have guessed the feeling I got when I flipped through its magical pages? I open the wallet-sized card and read: “To Katherine, Have a Very Magical Valentine’s Day!” How cute! How creative! It doesn’t seem to matter to me that this witty phrase didn’t come from his brain. I could care less.
I examine my name scrawled boyishly on the card. Are my eyes deceiving me, or is the “i” dotted with a heart? I examine it even closer, holding the card close to my face, convincing myself it is, in fact, a tiny heart. It’s only then that I catch Alejandro looking at me from the corner of the classroom, giving me a shy smile. I want to tell him that he did indeed make my Valentine’s Day magical, but instead I calmly continue looking through my valentines. While carefully putting his aside, I can’t help but think about how much he resembles Harry.
That was eleven years ago. That was what Valentine’s Day used to feel like; full of excitement, rosy cheeks, and magical valentines. That was before the arrival of messy relationships, make-up roses, and the disgusted tone one uses when pairing the words “single” and “Valentine’s Day” in the same sentence. I hear friends now jokingly call this holiday “Single’s Awareness Day” and it does feel like a day in which there are more unified singles, either celebrating their solidarity or feeling alone. It’s a day that reminds us, once again, of our past lovers, our “could-have-beens,” and our “wish-we-hads.” Do we need a “lover” in order to feel content? Is the love of our friends, family, and self, not enough on this holiday?
I read something interesting on the Internet a few days ago. Bored of Facebook-stalking and email browsing, and sensing the arrival of Cupid, I decided to Google “interesting facts about Valentine’s Day.” According to one website, there are more men and women without lovers on Valentine’s Day, than happy couples. America is filled with lonely adults, adults whose loneliness only escalates substantially around the middle of February, making it all that much clearer that as the joys of coloring books diminish, life isn’t as simple anymore. But wouldn’t it be nice to have even a small fraction of this childish fervor return with Cupid’s arrival?
I’ve been selling Valentine’s Grams to fellow UO students in both the Living-Learning Center and Hamilton to help fund my Alternative Spring Break trip of community service to Los Angeles. For a dollar, we sold various valentines, ranging from cute small rubber ducks adorned with hearts, heart-shaped candy, sweetheart key chains, small stuffed-animal gorillas, and even Valentine cards like the ones we used to exchange in elementary school, with themes ranging from Scooby Doo to Batman. Rather excited to spread around some Valentine’s Day love, I sat behind the table, anxiously awaiting someone to buy a valentine duck for that special person. However, after a couple hours of non-stop smiling and yelling out to passer-by, only two valentines had been sold. People just don’t seem to care.
Where is the joy we once felt in elementary and middle schools, when receiving a heart-shaped chocolate from a family member, a box of sweethearts from a friend, or that very special Harry Potter Valentine’s Day card from a crush was enough to warm our hearts? We could blame it on the passing of time, but I won’t. This Valentine’s Day I don’t need romantic love. I will celebrate regardless. I will celebrate the love that surrounds me; the love from friends and family. This Valentine’s Day, I just might send myself a dozen roses.
Where Did All the Love Go?
Ethos
February 14, 2011
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