I love those little candy hearts that come out around Valentine’s Day. Or, Valentimes, as we like to mockingly call it among my friends and family. The hearts, though, they are hard enough to crack a tooth, chalky, almost flavorless. There is very little that is redeeming about them. But they are nostalgia, they are tradition, they are love.
The candy hearts have changed over the years. I’ve admired the candy-maker’s tenacity to stay contemporary. The taste (or lack thereof) has stayed the same, but the messages have not. Back in my day of exchanging classroom valentines, no one would have known what “Text Me” or “LOL” even meant. I haven’t seen this year’s candy hearts, but I would not be surprised if there are some that make reference to SnapChat or Amazon Prime.
So another year passes and I’ve yet to find the everlasting love that I think I want, that I know I deserve. I’m getting closer, though, I can feel it in the depths of my soul. I’m getting closer, because I’ve made commitments to myself and I have done some hard work and I have steered the arc of my life to bend toward self-actualization, even though I’m quite sure it will never fully get there. I’ve cleaned out the cobwebs and tidied up the debris and made room for what is yet to come. I feel good, and I feel sure. I like who I am and what I have to offer. I am ready.
So my custom-made box of candy hearts would reflect exactly what I want. I imagine the hearts would say things like this: I’m Finally Ready. You’re Amazing. So Am I. Better Together. Order Takeout. Cuddlebug. Stay Up Late. Sleep In. Awaken My Soul. Let’s See The World. I’ll Lift You Up. Laugh Every Day. Make Me Think. Grow Together. And last, but not least: Let’s Do This.