In the mail yesterday, I received two Valentine's Day cards: one from my mom and one from my dad. They're vacationing out in Arizona (you know, as retired Baby Boomers do) and they took the time out of their vacation to make sure I received some love this week.
I am not a big card giver. If I'm going to give you a present, shouldn't the present be enough? You mean I gotta pay an extra 3, 5, 7 bucks to tell you in a card what I already tell you in real life? My parents, however, are fantastic card givers. Especially my dad. For as ornery, stubborn and sarcastic as he is, that man is full of love. He will spend hours at Hallmark pouring over the cards to find the perfect one that expresses exactly what he feels.
My mother is also a special card giver. She is much quieter than my father and not as prone to expressing her feelings as Dad and I (he and I are both Geminis so they tend to explode out of us). But she has a beautiful way of picking the card that reveals to me the incomparable depths of a mother's love.
Last night when I read both of those cards at my kitchen table, I burst into tears. Partly because I miss them a lot and wish that we lived closer, but mostly because I realized how lucky I am to be loved so much.
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