My Valentine, My Dad…

There are several reasons that I could choose to think that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest holiday in the world. There was a point in my life that I did probably. Thankfully, I’m not at that point anymore.

Actually, I remember really enjoying Valentine’s Day in elementary school. It was always fun to have an excuse to have a party and I enjoyed getting valentines from my friends. I’ve never been a fan of the color red and I really used to hate the color pink. Hearts are a pretty cool shape but I really love chocolate and love. I really love love.

When I got involved in the world of the male species and found an interest in their attention, Valentine’s Day took a different spin. I guess that’s the case for most people. That’s probably what sways people’s opinions about the holiday. I guess when you attach a holiday to something that holds so much emotional weight, things can get cray cray.

When I think about Valentine’s Day now though, I actually think about my Dad. My Dad always worked a lot when I was younger but I always knew he loved me. I was in girl scouts and he never missed a Daddy Daughter dance. He was at most of my home volleyball games. He has saved me from a few too many car mishaps. He is proud of me, he supports me, he loves me.

I knew he loved me when I was younger because he provided for our family. Most mornings when I woke up for school, my Dad was usually gone for work and he would get home around dinner time. On Valentine’s Day though, there were always three cards and three treats left on the kitchen table, one for me and each of my sisters. Those mornings were some of my favorite memories from my childhood.

Since I have left home, I’ve received a package for Valentine’s Dad from my Mom and Dad every year, complete with a card and usually Ferrero Rochet and heart shaped Peeps. Here’s a picture of this year’s card. Even now, at 24 years old and 14 hours away from home, my parents take the time to make sure I know that I’m loved.

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I think my Dad is a big contributor towards my appreciation for the little things, like waking up to a nice treat. I know my Dad is a big contributor to my understanding of love, like knowing it looks different for different people.

It’s not about the cards or the candy, the hype or the pressure. It’s about taking every opportunity we have to show and tell the one’s we love that we love them. I hope that my future husband takes some notes from my Dad. I look forward to many days, including Valentine’s Day, of waking up to hand-written notes, chocolate hearts on my kitchen table, walking in the door from work to a bouquet of flowers and loads of other sweet things from my husband. I also plan to do the same because there’s never a reason NOT to be obnoxious about love. (tweet that)

So, while I could have several reasons to say I don’t like Valentine’s Day, I have one reason to say it has a bigger meaning to me: my Dad.

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