Driving Thoughts on Valentines Day

 Yesterday was Valentines morning.
I drove the snowy mountain roads
in my Queen of Hearts dress
from 1975.
Double knit fabric has a bit of stretch to it,
thankfully.
There were very few vehicles on the mountain,
not like the night before
when I-80 eastbound closed
and hundreds of trucks clogged the road.
THERE was where I sat for twenty minutes
before Gilda the Adventure Car decided to make a u-turn
and go home on the back roads.

And THERE is Johnston's Nursery
where son Paul worked summers in his herbicide-blue sneakers.
His black Subaru drove back and forth
and back and forth
from home to work
and work to home
never passing a gas station.
He drives a white Subaru now,
my mom's final car.
The black Subaru was demolished
when Paul's friend Noel,
the most upbeat, gregarious person we have ever met,
rolled it after dropping Paul at the Buffalo airport.
No one was injured,
praise God,
but a debate ensued
as to who would pay the insurance deductible.
Noel was responsibly insistent that he would pay,
but it was an ACCIDENT
and college kids have little extra cash.
A compromise was reached:
Noel would make a donation some time in the future
when he saw a need that was unmet.
Later
when Noel's job took him to the Philippines
he sponsored a party for the children of prostitutes,
kids who were poor
and looked down upon.

Our school Valentines Day party perhaps has some similar kids attending,
kids who are poor,
whose life situations could make us cry.
But during the party
there are hugs and thank yous as valentines are opened,
and smiles under icing mustaches
as cupcakes are devoured.
Perhaps love is more appreciated in small bites.

As winter wanes,
may you have safe travels,
may you have eyes that notice needs,
may you find reasons to hug
and say thank you,
and may you enjoy a bit of icing on your lip.

S.