Passion in the Homeland

For some, Valentine's Day is all about passion, but not for me.

It's not that I have anything against passion, or its cousin lust, it's just that right now I'd feel I was stepping on the Italian feet. They're personifying passion with the Olympics, and I'm willing to give them their day.
!@(spark.jpg "spark")

But Valentine's Day has come and gone. I know it's a crass, commercialized holiday, probably invented by DeBeers and Hallmark, but I still enjoy it. I think it's touching that we have a day set aside to remember and reassure each other on a personal basis. I've yet to meet anyone who dislikes being recognized, who doesn't want to feel desirable and worthwhile, and if it takes a date on the calendar to accomplish that, I won't complain.

As manufactured as it may be, I need reminding. I'm not always as good as I should be about supporting those near me, at explicitly letting them know how much they enrich my life, and I often rely on logic to do the work of my heart. "If I didn't like you I wouldn't be here" may be my thought, but that's small coin, indeed, for humans who need to feel accepted.

I'm not sure there's a greater need than to feel wanted, to be picked from the masses and acknowledged as someone special, to hear that, yes, we matter. The day may not be about chocolate candies and roses, about buying genuine leather fanny packs or multi-tools, but it should be a day when we remind those around us that they're the ones we've chosen, that they're the ones we wish to spend our time with, that they're the reason we enjoy life.

I hope you all had a great day, that you were told you're wanted.