My Little Valentine

Not wanting to miss a moment of her first Valentine's Day, my little girl woke up at exactly 4:56 this morning. After cursing under my breath at not wanting to get out of bed, I scooped Evelyn out of her crib and we played and snuggled for three hours until she went back to sleep.

I only lost my cool once when she made a game of pinching the backs of my arms.

I've enjoyed many fleeting moments today during which I find myself undeniably happy at the face of my valentine this year. Sometimes, while I'm at work, I see a couple holding hands at the dinner table and staring contentedly into one another's eyes while they wait on their entrees. I can't help but envy them for a brief minute.

But if there's one thing that both my life and my job have taught me, it's how to appreciate reality for what it is. When I tear my eyes away from those (few and far between) happy couples, I often wonder how much of their movie-quality affection is merely a manifestation of their need to feel like a night out together must be special. Am I sounding cynical yet?

I remember very well my favorite couple to wait on. They were easily in their 70s, but wily as ever. When the woman expressed difficulty in speaking to me due to a bout with laryngitis, I took her dinner order and suggested a cup of soup to make her feel better. "No thanks, but I will take a Maker's on the rocks, please."

Without her noticing, the gentleman across from her smiled at her and ordered a Woodford Reserve for himself. For almost two hours, they sipped bourbon and took nibbles of food off the other's plate. Seeing their level of comfort with one another as if they knew no other way to live made me enjoy being their server, and not just because they left a generous tip.

I feel that comfort with my daughter. And that's why she's my valentine. Memories from before she arrived are now hazy and incomplete. The times when I find myself frustrated by her are quickly eclipsed when she coos or brushes my face with her tiny cherub hand.

This very moment, Evie is deeply immersed in baby dreamland while she sleeps in my lap. My valentine gift to her was a tiny pot of Forget-Me-Nots that I'm hoping to grow in the window. I don't have to ask her to "Be Mine." She already is, and I am hers.