On Thursday, I took a break from work to run to the card store. I bought, addressed and mailed Valentines to our young grandchildren and was back at my desk in moments. When my assistant, Margaret, asked me what I got for Peter, I just shrugged my shoulders. Did I buy a card for the man I've loved for 45 years? Nope. It didn't even occur to me. Margaret is 27 and in a committed relationship. Looking back, I'm sure Peter and I celebrated Valentine's Day when I was 27. But somehow we got out of the habit.
Of course, we are still each other's Valentines. I confirmed that this morning. And we do say "I love you" pretty much every day. But no romantic candle-lit dinners for Valentine's Day. And that's OK with me.
Margaret and I had another conversation about important issues last week. I told her Peter was about to celebrate a milestone birthday. She knows that I am working way beyond the time when most of my peers go somewhere warm for the winter, and she asked if I was thinking of retiring. I told her that I had no plans to do so. She added, "But don't you want to spend more time with Peter?" (Implied but not said "…since he's so old.")
She seemed shocked by my reply.