By Amber Clawson
What am I really doing?
Down the long hallway, the lockers stretch for eternity.
With the small paper in my sixth grade hand, I walk quietly towards his locker. I have been planning and sketching ideas for weeks.
I had to make it just right. The shade of the paper, the color of the pen. I practiced the letters-not too much flourish, but just enough to show my true feelings.
I finished my lunch early today. I had to make sure I would have enough time to put my treasure in his locker when no one was around. It''s a perfectly created pink heart. My little hand carefully crafted the message 'Somebody loves you,' and attached a small candy beneath.
A work of art.
Sliding the valentine into the second slit at the top of the locker, my stomach jumped as I heard it fall past the shelf and down to the bottom.
Would he find it? What if it fell behind his jacket? What if it fell into his math book and he didn''t open it and he never saw it!
It was too late now. Only to wait.
Lunch is over, and we head to Mr. Cohen''s Social Studies class. I anxiously sit in my seat and await his arrival to class.
Somehow he would just know it was me, and he would look right at me as he walked in the door...and we would live happily ever after, of course.
He came in.
He sat at his seat.
He never looked my way.
I still don''t know if he ever found that valentine.
I never asked.
Why do we have such grand expectations with valentines?
We plan too much, or we plan too little. After trying too hard and seeing no results, we give up all together and declare the whole situation hopeless. It doesn''t have to be this hard!
You know that feeling when you see a thank you note left on your bed or a birthday gift from a friend? It''s a confirmation that you''ve been a great human being and someone appreciates your efforts.
So why does that get so much more complicated when pink and red is involved?
A rose is not a wedding ring; a valentine is not a proposal.
Let the chocolates and candy come! A thank you, an expression of gratitude. A genuine appreciation for someone''s life well-lived.
No big deal.
It''s not going to hurt.
And it may bring a smile.
In the meantime, I''m going to slip in a few more of those anonymous notes.