I've long been a fan of Valentine's Day, whether single or attached. What's to hate about a day that celebrates love?
In the last few weeks of moving-related-madness, I have had a few bright spots. The other day, I was packing up a bookshelf when I set aside my grandmother's copy of Little Women (too precious to pack in a rolling suitcase of course). When I flipped through it later, I found this beautiful little Valentine inside. It was postmarked February 13, 1922, and addressed to my grandmother, Vivian Eloise Humphreys.
After I spoke to my mom, I realized that in 1922, my grandmother would have been two years old, and I'm assuming this Valentine was from another family member (we didn't recognize the signature "junior b"). To me, this is what Valentine's Day is all about. A sweet little note, a candy heart or two, and a reminder of all the love in your life, no matter who it's from.
Happy Valentine's Day!