I love that there is a holiday dedicated only to love. And lifelong love that you have wrested into a sexy trusty middle-aged shape is the best kind of all. A couple who have been together more than half their lives has much to celebrate. Hooray for the love that endures. We revel in our good fortune. We are grateful for the wisdom we have gleaned lo these twenty-five years. We are two people who know how to be married. I got reminded of that last year when life sent us one of those little bumps and I thought to myself. It’s okay. We know how to be married. We will not be threatened by a pesky irritating bump.
And we weren’t.
This year we will celebrate in the Big Apple. Our day will begin with cappuccino and then we will wander uptown’s antiquarian bookshops. We’ll have a long wine soaked lunch and toast the lucky serendipity that brought us together, two book lovers who share most of the same passions and a whole bunch of history and love. Big love. We’ll make our way back downtown in a literary lovefest that will end at the Strand, Union Square’s most reliable reader’s haunt. We will take the rickety elevator up to the third floor and look up William Boyd and JL Carr. Maybe somewhere along the way at Argosy or Crawford Doyle we will meet a new favorite who this time next year will have become an old friend.
In this way we will honor twenty-five Valentine’s Days and make a wish for twenty-five more.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.