Sweet Stuff

I love memories. I love how, just through thought, we can remember things that are comforting or funny, or important. Little stories our mind tells us, that are slightly embellished over time, and also slightly forgotten. It's almost as if the mind distills the memory down to just a theme or a lesson. One of the best Valentine memories I have happened when I was maybe 20. At the time, it wasn't necessarily a great day, or even memorable. But I think of it now with great fondness. It was a sweet kindness directed my way and I have never forgotten it. There was a boy that worked with me, Steve, I think. I don't even remember his last name. I vaguely remember him liking me but not thinking much about it. I came home to my apartment after work on Valentine's Day and there was a big fat Manila envelope at my door.

It had my name on the front. I took it inside and opened it up. There were 25 small, store bought valentines. Each was written on in child's handwriting. They all said, "To Jill," and they were all notes. "I hope you have a happy Valentimes" and "I like you" and "Be my Valentine." They were all signed either Love or From, and the children had all written their names. Mark, Janet, Betsy, Tim. I emptied them all out on the table and looked them over. I looked in the envelope for a note, a card or just a scrape of paper to tell me who these were from. Nothing. How weird. I didn't get it. How did these kids know me? And where did these come from? It was a mystery for a while and then I think I just let it go.

Steve never said a word about those cards, but I talked to a friend of his several months later. His friend asked me about the Valentines and it all came back. He told me that Steve had a sister who taught third grade in one of those very small Kansas towns, and that Steve had taken the Valentines out and asked the kids to write me a Valentine. They did, and sometimes I think about those kids writing a Valentine to a girl they didn't even know. I do remember those cards strewn out all over my kitchen table, and I remember that it made me smile and feel strangely happy that someone had left an envelope full of Valentines at my door.

Steve never even said anything to me. We never went out. I never would have known the story except I ran into his friend at a party one night. But it's a nice soft memory of an act of kindness that had no motive or manipulation. I still have those Valentines in that big envelope in a box somewhere. And when I think of that memory, I always hope I'm capable of that kind of kindliness.

Happy Valentimes Day.