I was just looking at my son’s Valentine’s card on my desk. The little truck sticker that he had placed on it had fallen off. I picked it up. What a cute little manly truck. I stuck it back on the construction paper between the two hearts, one pink and one orange. To the right of the orange heart he had put a sticker of a helicopter and another small pink heart. Below, Jaimito had drawn his family as stick figures. Our bodies were rudimentary, but he had put extra emphasis on the faces, beaming smiling faces.
He had selected each element with care, I am sure. Jaimito made me a card to communicate his love for me. He also made sure that the card represented himself, hearts of love, his family, and a truck and a helicopter.
Boy, do I love that little boy. I want to be just like him when I grow up. It’s funny, but I remember the rush of first love, those days of your first Valentines. You get older and those rushes fade. One would wonder if they were supposed to fade, should I look for new love, hang on to the old, or just accept that first love, that young passionate love is long gone?
Well, folks, it ain’t over. The rush comes back, and I think, comes back both stronger and steadier. When Jaimito handed me his Valentine’s day card and said, "Here, Daddy, I made dis for you," I swept him up into my arms, crushing him to my breast, peppering his round cheeks with a thousand kisses, until he giggled with delight. "Daddy, did you see the truck?"
"Yes, I love your truck."