I
have been blessed with sweet memories of Valentine’s. Yes, “romantic memories” but my favorite
memory remains my first memory of Valentine’s.
I was six years old the first
Valentine’s I remember. What made it
memorable was waking that morning to a single long stemmed red rose from my
daddy. I remember feeling special and loved and even grown up.
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My dad also made a practice of taking
me on dates with him. We would go to the Howard Johnson’s restaurant for the
turkey dinner or fried clams. We went to
see movies and took rides to see his co-workers at the rescue squad. I have
vivid memories of getting excited about my time alone with dad.
Last week while walking through a local
restaurant my heart watched as a dad and little girl skipped in. He took her to a small two-topped table with
a bouquet of miniature red roses.
The little girl scrambled to sit on her
knees and lean over to chat with her daddy, complete with holding his hands
with only the bouquet separating them.
The little girl giggled as she talked with him and the daddy seemed
totally awed by her presence.




