My Valentine

If I could, I would give to you: the scent of the pines after a summer rain, the tingle of the ocean surf as it tickles your toes, the song of the meadow lark on an August afternoon, and the blaze of a fire deep in the snowy woods. I’d bring to you: the thrill of an eagle lifting off with his catch, the fuzzy comfort of a decades old blanket, and the romance of a candle lit dinner and a fine bottle of wine. I’d gift to you: the promise of tomorrow with each goodnight kiss, the soothing calmness of a mountain stream and the feeling of home in cookies fresh from the oven.

 I wish I could somehow dip each of these experiences into a chocolate decorated with telltale hints of the surprises enclosed. The box would hold dark, milk and white chocolates - sprinkled, frosted and wrapped - to be enjoyed at your leisure. You could select the dark chocolate truffle with the white sugar sprinkle. As your teeth penetrate the outer shell, the magical chill of frozen fog surrounds you. The lake appears clear as you gaze, the mist hanging just above the surface. Each blade of grass and dogwood branch is coated in a crystalline cocoon. The air is still and calm. The snow covered pines begin to tremble and you expect a medieval knight to emerge on his steed. This time it is a doe and her yearling fawn. The taste of magic and possibility linger on your tongue as you smile.

One more, you tell yourself, only one more chocolate. You decide on the milk chocolate delight with the dash of cinnamon red on top. Maybe it is paprika, nutmeg or chili powder. Here goes. As the truffle melts in your mouth the sun washes over your exposed skin. The rays are welcome and life giving. Your face turns to greet the radiance like a flower catching the full benefit. You feel the sand under your toes. The red rock rises up to the clear blue sky and the sage brush surrounds you. You are slightly winded from the exertion of climbing this precipice. The view is breathtaking, nourishing your soul. All the aches and pains your joints have held in the past dissolve in this healing environment. You can sense the spirit of the native peoples that lived here long ago. The notes of a tin whistle float through the canyon below. The heat and the sensations liquefy all of your concerns as you make the last swallow of honey colored, caramel deliciousness.

What if there was another way of packaging these experiences? Could I take the fraction of a second before a long, slow kiss and wrap it in a rose bud? As the rose unfolds, the scent wafts into the nostrils stimulating the entire brain. Captured is that instant when we are only a whisper apart. Your 5:00 shadow barely brushing my chin. Hearts pounding, anticipation peaking. Eyes close, skin shivers, the ever so slight inhalation and the mingling of soap and perfume. Hands caressing, pulling closer, lips meet – surrendering, giving, receiving, crushing. That is the gift I would give my love in a floral bouquet.

The traditional Valentine – a lovely, lace embellished card, a heart shaped box of Russell Stovers and a deep red rose are lovely but they leave so much lacking. I wish to give much more beyond the store bought perfunctory items.

I wish to give him love and sunshine, magic and wonder. I have not discovered a way to capture these experiences so I will take his hand and begin creating them. Valentine, let us go into the world walking in gratitude each day for the love we share. This is a day I honor you and I honor what we have together. Let us always realize what a blessing this is. Come with me and let’s be off on our adventure, my best friend, my lover, my muse. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!


written January 2016