A Valentine Treasure

My grandfather wasn't a demonstrative man; he rarely, if ever, hugged me, or even touched me except to shake hands. He would let me hug him, but reluctantly, embarrassed by my display of affection. That wasn't the way of his generation, but I still knew he loved me and would protect me.

I treasure deeply the one time he gave me a Valentine card. He sent it the year after my grandmother died and I think he sent one to all his granddaughters. "It is Valentine's day. I don't have the one that I loved most now. But I do have ten Grandsweethearts that I love very much. I know that you all love me."

I keep the card in a treasure box filled with special letters, cards, and momentos. I don't look in the box too often. I always find something that makes me cry. Poems from a young nephew; graduation cards, wedding invitations, birth announcements, funeral cards that mark the passage of time; good-bye cards from friends that I met as I drifted from job to job and town to town; lonely messages from brothers and nephews in the armed services; loving notes from relatives; bittersweet reminders of long lost loves.

My treasure box is an old Thom McAn shoe box. Not a very grand container for precious, priceless pieces of my life.

Piglet sidled up behind Pooh. "Pooh," he whispered. "Yes, Piglet?" "Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. "I just wanted to be sure of you." - Winnie-the-Pooh