First Valentine

My First Valentine is nearly 90 years old.

I have been visiting him and making sure he is eating and all of the important stuff . . .

Look at that sweet face . . .

I was out yesterday, at Dad’s local grocery, buying food.

I so love buying food!

I walked past a display of Valentine goodies.

And stopped.

There were several heart-shaped boxes.

 Beautifully, elegantly - decorated boxes.

Cute, colourful boxes.

Boxes with favourite cartoon characters printed on the lids.

Dozens of kinds to choose from.

Somewhere in the middle was a stack of boxes.

Simple.

Red.

They reminded me of something.

A gift from my Dad on a Valentine’s Day many, many years ago.

Dad always gave my Mom a heart-shaped box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day.

Always.

It was the one special day of the year he was confident in his gift-giving abilities.

The year I turned six was even more special for me.

It was the year that Dad first included me in the gift giving.

At breakfast that morning, he handed my mom a beautifully decorated large box of chocolates.

To much oohing and ahhing from us kids.

Then he smiled at me and handed me a box.

A small, heart-shaped box of chocolates all my own.

I stared at him.

Then at the box.

For me?

All for me?

He nodded. “For my littlest Valentine,” he said.

I jumped up and gave him a hug. Then snatched the box and fled.

The chocolates inside were gone faster than you can blink.

But the box remained.

 Because I like boxes.

For years, it held my smallest treasures.

Then, when I moved out, it remained with all the little keepsakes of my childhood . . .

I didn't mention the Valentine's display to my Dad. I thought that when the time came, I would just go and buy one of those boxes for him.

Last night, as we were sitting visiting, he asked me to get him his little sewing kit.

I went to fetch it.

And discovered that his sewing kit was my little chocolate box.

I held it in my hands and stared at it.

I was suddenly six years old again.

Receiving my first Valentine’s gift from my first Valentine.

Such a sweet, sweet memory.

I'm here to help my Dad.

But really, he is helping me.

A little the worse for the wear,
but it is over 50 years old! Like me . . .