One year Charles and I shopped for food a few days before Valentine’s Day. We’d agreed not to purchase gifts for the occasion since we had a weekend trip coming up the end of the month and wanted to save our cash for that.
As I perused the bread aisle, Charles meandered over to the fresh flowers, then pulled me toward the row of blooms. “See this bouquet of beautiful yellow roses?”
“Yes. It’s lovely,” I responded, then bent to take a sniff.
He picked up the bouquet and held it out to me, then took it back before I could get too attached. “This is the bouquet I want to buy you for Valentine’s Day,” he said with a wry smile, “but I won’t because of our agreement.”
“I receive them for the moment,” I said, and we both laughed.
I asked Charles to pick up some yogurt and hummus and then meet me in Aisle 14. A few minutes later he arrived, curious about what I was up to. I held out a gushy, mushy Valentine card for him to read. Then I took it back before he got too attached.
“This is the card I want to buy you for Valentine’s Day,” I said with a shy smile, “but I won’t because of our agreement.”
We hugged and kissed. We’d declared our intentions and that was that. No need for a twenty-dollar bouquet that would wilt in a few days and a card that would end up at the bottom of a pile of paper bound for the recycling bin, though I’m not saying that cards and flowers are a waste of money. But for that year, this worked for us.
We finished our food shopping and drove home to watch a romantic movie and share a bowl of popcorn. Ah, the simple life!
My heart to you is given:
Oh, do give yours to me;
We’ll lock them up together,
And throw away the key.