Last Valentine’s Day I came home to find a care package. While some would have found it sweet, I found it creepy. On the outside, it looked like your typical V-Day gift (flowers, candy, a poem, framed picture), but in reality it was vile and vinegary, like a pickle. (I hate pickles…and you can read more about that ordeal here).
The week leading up to Valentine’s 2011, my boyfriend at the time and I had broken up. He cheated. In addition to that he lied about being enrolled in grad school, stolen from me, and a list of other deceits that I’m embarrassed to even mention. We ended and he went to San Antonio to ‘grieve.’ In the grieving process that weekend, he slept with my best friend’s ex. (Don’t worry the details will be in the tell-all book and probably be in syndication from a cancelled FOX show by 2021 or so).
Then, nearly a year later, I noticed this post on my mom’s Facebook page:
Congratulations to my nephew!!! He performs with the State Band in San Antonio on Saturday!! What a great achievement! San Antonio..HERE WE COME!!!!
Given that San Antonio is only an hour drive away and I rarely see my family (subjects of future blog posts no doubt), I decided to join. It didn’t escape my attention though that a year later, a very different turn of events happened in that town. This time though, it was me going. I asked the guy I’m seeing now to come with and we jumped in the car and met my parents, aunt, and uncle in the big taco.
I’ll spare the boring details. Nothing outstanding happened while we were there. It was nice. There was no drama (except my hissy fit trying to find a parking space). No tears. Normal.
Some call it karma, but I believe that everything in life has a cycle and seeks balance. Last year at this time, some really heavy things were going on in my life. It sucked. This year, instead of a Nip/Tuck sort of Valentine’s Day, it’s more Parks and Recreation.
a toast, to us
Here’s to us
not for what might happen next,
for it might not be nearly as bright,
but here’s to us, for better or worse,
and for thanks to a merciful star,
skies of blue, and muddling through,
and for me and for you we are.
and here’s to us for nothing at all.
if there’s nothing at all we can praise,
just that we’re together and ehre
here’s to us, forever and always.
for all that we have,
and the road we’ve travelled
oh, so far.
here’s to running with scissors,
playing in the rain,
and driving fast,
to spending without wont,
and loving without regret
to being scared, loud, and
brash, living young until we’re ash.
here’s to us, forever and always
In 2011, that was the poem left at my door. Penned by a boy that at one point, could have done no wrong. Thanks to Google, it was quickly revealed to be lyrics from the musical, Little Me. Not shocking. This year, there is no poem. This year, it’s a glass of wine and some tv. It’s perfect.
While not everyone will find love this February 14th, I do hope they can find balance. And if things seem a little heavy and dark this year, remember, the merry-go-round will spin again and hopefully next year when the cycle of life repeats itself, it will be a little kinder to you
