Valentine's Day

When I see all the hype about different holidays in the Media, I wonder if people really get that excited about holidays.  For me holidays feel as good as any other day except that, depending on the holiday, there is extra pressure about whether to give a gift or not, when to decorate, who to invite, what to do, etc.  These days everyday feels so joyful, so alive, so full that holidays are more of the same.  I don't remember exactly when life became so intensely pleasurable, but most days are pretty incredible.

When I was a child, however,that just wasn't the case.  It was all so stressful.  Holidays were days when my mom did stuff for us because she felt she had to.  She must have felt tremendous pressure at holidays as well.  She didn't handle it very well though.  One Christmas, I don't remember what we as kids had done, (there were four of us) but she got so angry that she threw the entire tree out the door, decorations and all.  That was devastating.  Valentine's was when we went to the store and bought the cheapest valentines and then hoped we would get some in return.  I went to so many different schools, I didn't always know many people in my class.

Now as an adult, I have friends and co-workers that decorate and plan and make the world beautiful everyday, but especially for holidays.  If you are a home-room mother who makes fantastic pink cupcakes, I thank you for the benediction those sweet bundles of caring bring into deprived, neglected, abused children's lives.  I know perhaps you weren't thinking of that child when you made the cupcakes, but just maybe your own child's happiness, but it spills over into other lives, lives that are hungry for beauty and stability.  If you are a decorator, the kind of person who pastes hearts and red and white decorations for Valentine's, shamrocks for St. Patrick's, and bunnies for Easter, thank you. Thank you for making the effort.  I don't know where your boundless enthusiasm comes from, but when I see your decorations, I am amazed at your creativity and willingness to create something finite, to pull out all the decorations and lovingly pack them away again.  When I see what you have done, I am again the awkward child at the back of the room, you are the homeroom mother who is only being nice as you offer me the fruits of your labor, but I bask in your secondhand love.  I am exceedingly grateful you exist.  Please don't stop decorating the world.  Let it be ok that I don't decorate, because I am busy surviving.  Thank you for the beauty you bring to this world.