Marhysa Welter

I took the flowers and ran them under water in a vase in the sink in the bathroom. I did not realize the water was piping hot. I watched the flowers wilt before my eyes.
These were the last flowers I have ever gotten for Valentine’s Day. And to be honest, the memory is traumatic in more than one way: a destructive lifestyle, an abusive relationship – not really a V-Day for the ages.
Over the years, I have had few relationships. Some completely wrong and inappropriate. Some short lived. A boyfriend whom I loved passed away – way before we could spend any holidays together. And all these relationships left me watching Valentine’s Day from the outside. The cards, the chocolates, and the Instagram love posts.
For a while, I was bitter. I watched and wished it could be me. I hated seeing people so in love. I hated seeing people having found their person and having someone to spend this well, honestly, hallmark holiday, but still, love day, with.
This year, it feels like an onslaught of love. Of love I do not yet have but I wish I did. Of love I long for but have not been fortunate to receive. Valentine’s Day feels like an invite to a super exclusive club where the membership involves a pair. And if you are not part of a pair, well, see yourself out, please.
So, I do not have anything great to say about Valentine’s Day, except that I have not lost hope that my person is out there. One day I will be celebrating V-Day with the love of my life. Or, hey, we will buck the system and not celebrate this commercialized Hallmark Day. Because honestly, Valentine’s Day is just another day.
Love is what we do on all the days in between. It is making breakfast, doing laundry and going grocery shopping. It is mundane as much as showy. It is more of the mundane than the fancy. And that is what I want out of love. Valentine’s Day is a day. But we can love the people in our daily lives, romantic partners or otherwise.
And that flips Valentine’s Day on its head.