Five years ago, on a Friday afternoon, I was standing in Dollar General staring at Valentine’s Day cards. My wife, Shannon, and I have a tradition of giving each other two cards on special occasions – one funny, one meaningful. Cards with handwritten messages are intimate, even if it’s just a sentence that says, “I love you.”
We’ve saved those cards over the years, and it’s fun to pull them out and reminisce. A small folded piece of cardboard often carries more personality than a gift. The messages are carefully chosen and personalized with a pen. What’s not to love about that?
After picking our cards that day, I went down the aisle with heart-themed trinkets – plastic flowers, small balloons, stuffed animals. My plan was to find something cute and funny instead of expensive jewelry or overpriced roses.
For years, I thought love was measured by the zeros on a price tag. But Shannon would buy what she wanted herself. The quickest way to her heart was saving money, not spending it. It taught me to be practical, thoughtful, and creative with gifts.
As I fumbled through teddy bears and unicorns, nothing felt right. Then I spotted it: a small rubber figurine of two little frogs on a bench in the garden section. The male frog had his arm around the female, who rested her head on his shoulder. Perfect.
Years later, I didn’t think much about that gift – until one evening while washing dishes. I glanced at the jade plant on the windowsill. There, at the base, sat the two little frogs, mimicking a loving couple in the park. I smiled, reminded how simple love can be.
Then I noticed the other gifts scattered through our home: a yellow plastic flower in the bathroom, a dried stem of baby’s breath in a glass jar by the couch, a tiny stuffed gnome with a red heart cap on the dresser, a solar-powered dog that says “I woof you” on a kitchen shelf. Shannon had cherished each one, thoughtfully displaying them. Our simple gestures had been reciprocal and sincere.
Valentine’s Day wasn’t always this commercialized. Its earliest roots trace to the Roman festival Lupercalia, which celebrated fertility with animal sacrifices and a matchmaking lottery. Fascinating, but I’ll stick with Dollar General.
Society expects grand gestures for one day a year, but I find it easier to love your valentine year-round. It takes the pressure off one holiday. I feel sorry for those leaving flower shops $100 poorer or jewelry stores clutching receipts, wallets now perfect bullseyes for Cupid’s arrow.
It has taken years to simplify love, and I still mess it up sometimes. I’m often guilty of offering it gift-wrapped with expectation. But love can’t be blind if it’s given and received with conditions. Maybe it’s time to rethink the expensive quid pro quo assigned to romance.
Some of the best love stories have the simplest plots. Mine is a poetic novella about a loving husband, Dollar General, and two little frogs sitting on a bench.
Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].
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Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 36 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
