The following entry has been taken from my daily writing assignment for my creative writing course. Hope my teacher doesn't mind.
I’ve never been overly fond of the holiday, and not because I’m bitter or dispassionate. In fact, I’m blessed by the amount of love I have in my life.
I’ve been happily married for eleven years to my high-school sweetheart. We weren’t even your typical teenagers; we never broke up only to get back together a week or later. We’ve been together since the summer I turned fifteen.
I have two adorable little boys who give me hugs and kisses without me even asking. Their favorite game is “the kissy-momster” where I tackle them and kiss every inch of their little faces while they try to wriggle away. My oldest is almost strong enough to avoid my kisses now, even though he’s the biggest fan of the game.
Then there’s the dog and the cat. Even they love me. More so when I’m feeding them, mind you, but still they love me even when I’m not. Well. The cat is questionable at times. She can be quite hands-off when she’s not in the mood for lovins. Still, I know she prefers me to everyone else in the house.
Yet the love doesn’t stop there. Nope. I have parents and brothers and sisters who love me, even when I’ve managed to piss them off. If I needed any of them, they’d be there. I have no doubt. Our family is incredibly close. We were raised to believe in the “family first” motto. Our family takes this attitude so far I know I could call on any one of my aunts, uncles, or cousins and they’d be there as soon as humanly possible. How many people can confidently claim such a thing?
Rounding out the circle of love in my life would have to be my friends. I don’t have many true friends but the ones I do are solid. They’re there for the good and bad. They’re willing to put up with my bad attitudes and coax me out my funks. They laugh with me, cry with me, and tell me to behave myself every now and again.
Why then am I not a fan of Valentine’s Day? Blame it on Hallmark.