the card
The first time receiving a Valentine card really meant something to me was in the fifth grade. I’ve always loved that grade. Bob Harper and I swapped Valentine cards. They were identical. Exactly the same card. What it looked like, the words stamped on it are lost somewhere in my memory. But the feeling that someone knew me well enough to buy the same card that I imagined wanting to receive remains with me. You know that WOW rush of feeling your body actually senses when all the messages of the universe pounce on you at once? That’s a feeling with lasting power. It has stayed with me through I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening moments, and I’ve relied on my brain’s neurons to kick that feel through my body on several occasions.
not so easy to live with
Admitting you may be hard to live with is powerful. This particular self-realization plummets a person with doubt, anxiety, worry, and a suitcase full of unwanted pain. Eventually, this same awareness brings confidence in being solo or pride for having a strong sense of self. But vacillating between extremes creates a war zone within the body, and it’s really, really hard to take sides.
the choice
That card from the past…actually the choice to remember how it felt to get that card…negotiates a truce. Just thinking about receiving that card reminds me that someone “gets” me. The day Cupid is elevated to a hero is the day I tell myself that I’m okay.