Valentine's Day - Managed Expectations

by Angela Sanford

Thinking about Valentine’s Day has me reminiscing about evenings during my elementary school years spent decorating a container to hold my Valentine cards on the big day. Teachers would hand out class lists so we could carefully print the names of every classmate on our cards, each one destined for a handmade box. I still remember opening mine and reading the messages friends had chosen, each card feeling like a small but meaningful connection.

   As my elementary years drew to a close, themed cards became popular—Ziggy (a personal favourite), Garfield, and the California Raisins. Then came junior high and high school, where Valentine’s cards were far less common and no longer part of classroom routines. Some years there were heart-o-grams, flowers, or cookies sold by student council and delivered to the person of your choice—or, if you were lucky, delivered to you. Valentine’s dances replaced sock hops and became evenings filled with speculation about who liked whom.

   As an adult, Valentine’s Day has turned out to be less of an event than I once imagined. Social expectations suggest chocolates, roses, and diamonds, but we’ve never been a couple to make a big production of hallmark holidays. After more than 30 years of marriage, we recognize one another in quieter, simpler ways. Not that those moments aren’t memorable—like the afternoon I arrived home from work to find Dan painting a giant John Deere green heart and “I love you” in the snow, while the boys watched from the deck.

   Lately, I’ve noticed a wide range of Valentine’s ideas circulating on social media—clever puns paired with toy cars, fidgets, and gifts that could become costly when multiplied by an entire class. For that, I’m grateful our boys grew up in a time that felt less materialistic and more in line with my own childhood experiences.

   Of course, it’s always nice to be recognized, and I wouldn’t turn down flowers, chocolates, or even diamonds. But in a world that often feels unstable and superficial, I’ve come to appreciate love expressed in quieter ways—like clearing the snow off my car so I don’t have to stand in the cold.

   Perhaps I’ve reached the stage of life where I catch myself longing for the “good old days.” Or maybe I’ve simply learned that love, at its best, has never been about what’s bought or exchanged—but about the small, thoughtful acts that say you matter long after Valentine’s Day has passed.