February 14, 1970, Valentine’s Day
Nate and I stood on our apartment building’s front porch waving off my parents and aunt after their overnight visit – and didn’t feel the slightest twinge of sadness. After all, what newlywed couple wants to celebrate Valentine’s Day with their parents?
As always, we couldn’t wait to be alone again, and it was a pleasure to scamper up to our 3rd floor nest after they’d gone. We hadn’t spent money on elaborate gifts to mark Valentine’s Day, but being alone was all we really wanted anyway. Since the holiday was a Saturday in 1970, it was gift enough just to have a free evening stretching out in front of us.
Nate had hidden tiny candy hearts around the apartment, the kind with words of love printed on them, and was anxious to watch me hunt for them. Though he knew I would probably eat them all, he meant for their messages of love to last forever.
As I hunted for the hearts, he shadowed me, celebrating each time I found one and sometimes feeding them to me. I loved his creativity and knew his main objective was to please me…. which he did.
I gave him two Valentine cards, one silly one from my 1st grade stash and the other a contemporary card full of serious words.
The typewriter Valentine was an oblique reference to the ongoing process of thank you notes, but the other one was filled with sincere sentiment for the husband I adored.
“My love for you grows daily… hourly, even when I’m away from you during the day. For Valentine’s Day this year I willingly give all I am to you, for service, devotion, companionship, love… in a new dedication, from February 14, 1970, to forever.”
Nate accepted my promises and responded with similar ones, things that were even better than the words printed on his candy hearts.
As we cuddled up in front of our fireplace that evening, he said, “I’m so glad we didn’t wait to get married any later than we did, aren’t you?”
“Definitely,” I said. “Look at all we would have missed in the last 2½ months.”
“And just think how frustrated we would have been by now – 2½ more months of sleeping separately and trying to resist temptation that whole time.”
“I wonder,” I said, “if we would have resisted.”
“Well… thank goodness we didn’t have to.”
And with that we learned that getting intimate on a blanket in front of a warm fire could be extremely romantic.
“Each one of you is to love his wife as himself, and the wife is to respect her husband.” (Ephesians 5:33)