February is the gloomiest month of the winter in Indiana, but despite its bitter cold and perpetual lack of sun, this month’s arrival does bring one special day that warms our hearts and tickles that shameless romantic in each of us.
Valentine’s day has always managed to set aflutter my typically stagnant heart. As a kid, I’d stop in the card aisle at the drugstore on the night of the 13th with my mom, painstakingly hopping back and forth between choosing the Buzz Lightyear cards proclaiming, “I’d go to infinity and beyond for you!” and the Lion King ones that claimed, “You’re terrific, and I’m not lion!’ Of course, the real excitement came when I’d rush inside upon our return home to rip open the transformers cards- the obvious choice once I saw them- and got to fill out the “to” and “from” sections of every card, eagerly anticipating the grateful looks on the faces of those receiving the cards the next day.
It was equally as exciting to be on the receiving end of a card ardently bestowed. At the end of the school day, I’d run to the front of the class to retrieve the paper sack- decorated by my hastily scribbled name surrounded by poorly drawn pink and red hearts- and bustle my way to my mother’s room, she was a teacher, to unload the bounty of wit stained cardboard.
In the years following, valentine’s day cards were replaced by purchasing lip-shaped lollipops for school fundraisers and anonymous roses to be embarrassingly delivered mid-lecture. Now, the reign that valentine’s cards had over that mid-February date in my chest has been supplanted by the cheeky purchase of a heart-shaped peanut butter chocolate for my drive home from work. In adulthood, the glamour that cupid’s arrows brought seems to have mostly faded.
But hope is not all lost!
In this post, I endeavor to reacquaint myself with the maudlin nature of a valentine suitor meekly pursued by an elegant piece of cardboard and a gel pen… by writing cards to NBA players that I’d like the Pacers to trade for.
Buckle up.