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V-Day (as Carol called it)

Valentine's Day has always sort of been broken into two parts for me.

The First Part:
Every Valentine's Day, for about as long as I can remember, my sisters and I would get up and run into the kitchen and there by our table setting would be a Valentine's Day card, some sort of Valetine's Day candy, and Valentine's pajamas or undies. Mom would always get us something every year. And it was great. I think that sort of helped take off the pressure of, "Am I going to get something this year? Nobody loves me!" because I always knew that I'd get something from Mom.

(One year Mom got Dad these silk boxers and he was about to open them, but Amelia (she was about 3 or 4 years old) couldn't take it anymore and blurted out, "Mommy got you SILVERY pants!")

The Second Part:
This aspect of Valentine's Day can be divided into two types: the years I had a boyfriend and those I didn't. The years I didn't have a boyfriend (which would be MOST of them), were always filled with the bitterly blind hope that THIS year, THIS YEAR, somebody would like me and would send me a secret Valentine.

In reality, most of what I got was from teachers/advisors, or friends.

I always wished (and sort of anticipated) that this year would be different. That somebody had been loving me from the shadows and would finally tell me of their love. Even if I didn't reciprocate, I wanted to be loved by SOMEBODY.

Then there were the years that I had a boyfriend. Before Zeph, it was always the same as the other years had been, "Is there somebody, anybody, loving me from afar?" I think it was partly an ego-trip. While Zeph and I dated, it was always, "This is what Valentine's Day should be." It was beautiful and romantic and passionate and fulfilling. After Zeph and I broke up, Valentine's Day has, for the most part, escaped my notice. I was always busy with schoolwork. "2/14" was just another day on the calendar.

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