Do you save your Valentines?

For 27 years every Valentines Day flowers would arrive from my secret admirer.

No name. Just love. Steady. Quiet. Unwavering.

This year they won't come. An absence I find in my heart dug deeper as that day edges closer.

Not because the love has faded but because the hands that sent them are gone.


My father was my secret admirer.

Grief has this strange way of unmasking devotion.

As a little girls what was at first a magical mystery for my sister and I was, as years passed ; a lifetime of love choosing shared anonymity...

Not to be seen....only felt.

Some Valentines won't arrive in bouquets anymore...they'll land as memories.

Saved forever.

🩷