Valentine's Day After

I missed Valentine's Day this year.  Seems I'm always living somewhere in Nostalgia.  Who can fault me, though, for looking over my shoulder at some of my happier moments.  I was five when I first knew anything about Valentine's Day.  My teacher that year decorated a large, round hatbox and sat it on top of the piano in our classroom.  The box was covered in red and pink and white with lots of lacy doilies marching all around the outside of the box.  She cut a slit in the top, and invited us to drop our Valentines into the box.  For days and days, kids carried white envelopes in their sweaty little palms and dropped them dutifully into the large hatbox.  Finally the big day arrived.  Two homeroom mothers marched into the classroom with boxes of fluffy pink-frosted cupcakes. Red paper plates held red hots, sugary conversation hearts, potato chips, and heart-shaped cookies.  Then it was time to remove the lid from the hatbox and hand out the Valentines to every child in the class.  Our teacher picked up the box, gave it one last shake, and went  to work. When I think about that holiday and all the fun things we did, I want to hug someone. I only have warm feelings, the beginning of love, the sweet taste of fluffy pink-frosted cupcakes, and the belief that the world was a happy and loving place.  The hatbox didn't hold a hat.  It held all the romance, intrigue, and mystery of love, tied up neatly in white, pink, and red. What did I know of love?  What did I need to know?  Simple times. No wonder I love Nostalgia.