'It's a poem typed up by my daughter in third grade on a generic piece of white paper.'
my kids have made for me over the years, I might doubt that we ever once embraced the holiday at all. There are the dreamcatchers made with feathers and yarn, the conversation-heart picture frames, the elaborately crafted tissue-paper wreaths. But the Valentine's Day gift I cherish the most is one that hangs haphazardly on a corkboard in my kitchen. It's a poem typed up by my daughter in third grade on a generic piece of white paper. Blink, and you might miss it.
Of course, at the time I received the valentine, I remember being a little taken aback by how shallow a lot of those other phrases made me feel.? I can't deny that my daughter really did capture the essence of who I was in those 11 little lines, though: a mom with fake hair who adored her family, got pissed off in traffic, devoured books to pass time in the school car line, and refused to wear flats. I still won't. And yeah, I still dig my Chardonnay, too.
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