First: calm your angst. It has nothing to do about my own personal Valentine’s day, but rather my parents’. Save your eye rolls and “not another simp!” exclamations for the next post on your dashboard por favor. 

Today, my mom had a surgical procedure done. Nothing too serious mind you; just your standard hysteroscopy. I just thought it was such a shame it was done on Valentine’s day. My parents would always go out and eat somewhere nice, and this year would be the first year since forever that they wouldn’t get to do that. But if anything, this was perhaps one of the very few times where my mom and dad’s love for one another was just so obvious, it smacked me in the face.

All three of us, my mom, dad, and I, were eating dinner in my parent’s bedroom so that my mom wouldn’t be alone. I noticed that my dad had bought my mom flowers; a normal thing he does every Valentine’s day. See, my dad always bought the crappy flowers haha. You know, your generic grab and go bouquets full of half dead carnations and purple (but slightly yellowing) daisies. They’re usually the first ones you see when you walk into Vons. Stores also never seem to run out of these odd bouquets. But yes, my father always bought these flowers. And maybe one year, he’d feel extra nice, and he’d get roses. Maybe.

But no, this year on my mom’s bedside was a tall bouquet of orchids; her favorite flower. My dad refused to let me do anything for her; he wanted to do everything, including bringing up her soup on those little in-bed tray doohickies. When she reached for her pain medication, he was there in a second, all ready with a pill and a glass of water in hand. When I was looking into my bowl of bamboo shoot and chicken soup, I overheard him say, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” I couldn’t help it; I had to look up. He patted her softly on the shoulder, before bending down to kiss the top of her head. And my mom, although her skin was pale and her eyes were slightly sunken in with dark bags underneath them…my mom shined. 

At that point, I had to get out of the room. There is just something about witnessing an exchange like that that makes you unable to handle it unless there’s another person in the room to buffer it. When you’re the lone person who’s in a room with two people who are in love, you can’t help but feel so small in comparison to them. And since these precious moments are rare between them, I felt like I was almost intruding on something private and intimate. My parents do not have a perfect relationship. But then they have days like this that really make me wonder.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.