Flowers to mark the occasion.
A bottle of fine wine.
Dinner reservations at a favored restaurant.
A simple yet heart-felt card and a kiss.
For those of you who have not yet noted Cupid’s date on the calendar, it’s this Saturday, February 14th.
You’re welcome and don’t judge those who haven’t. It doesn’t necessarily mean that love is lacking. Common sense, on the other hand, may well be.
The truth is that we all, at one time or another, forget things. Maybe we forget the date on a calendar. Or we forget whether or not we were shot down in a helicopter in Iraq. Or maybe we just forget to spend precious time doing those things that bring us joy and enhance our own personal quality of life.
Some of us don’t forget but we try to cut corners. We only do those things we feel we should do for whatever reasons but we do them half-heartedly believing that some attention on those things is better than none at all.
I used to think that way, but now I’m not so sure.
The other day, in a fit of pre-Spring cleaning madness or utter boredom (I’m not sure which), I forced myself to open a closet door that held the promise of 1001 quilts. It was time to cull my collection of fabric and make a donation to the middle school’s consumer science class.
As I sorted though the piles of colors, textures and patterns, I discovered an Amish inspired quilt top that seemed to be ready for batting, backing and stitching.
How could I possibly have gotten that far in the process of creating something and not completed it? In my mind, I was already thinking of where I would hang it in the house and then I looked at the top more closely.
Something was off.
Sure, the bold black, blue and fuchsia colors were there, but the middle square, a total must have for this particular pattern, was completely missing.
I had rushed the process of creating something worthwhile, something that I had wanted to keep and treasure for years to come. I just didn’t pay attention to the details that mattered. I wanted to finish the top of the quilt so quickly, that I forgot a critical step.
The result was an Amish quilt gone wrong.
I think that’s how it is when someone forgets the flowers. The wine. The reservations. The card. The kiss. They mean well, but they just didn’t think it though. They didn’t focus enough attention on stuff that matters.
They end up experiencing a Valentine’s Day gone wrong.
There may be hope, however.
I’m starting to think that my inner-squareless quilt top might turn into the center square itself of an even bigger quilt. Call it a hail Mary, a near save or desperate attempt to right a totally unnecessary wrong.
Order the flowers.
Buy the wine.
Make the reservations.
Sign the card.
Kiss the one you love.
Then maybe, just maybe you won’t have to figure out how to make things right.