The Valentine that Almost Wasn't

My wife and I had only been married since November. Like all newlyweds, we had a lot of challenges. But being a same-sex couple, blending a family that includes two teenagers and my wife's eighty-year-old mother, turned out to be more of a challenge than we ever expected; when I lost my job, the financial strain was the last straw. We did not know if, let alone how, we could work things out. My wife moved out.

So the day before Valentine's Day, the card I had bought for my wife was still in my desk drawer and I had somehow blocked it out of my head that the next day was Valentine's Day. I never go out to check the mail (that is the kids' job), but that day for some reason that I still cannot explain, I suddenly got the urge to go out and check the mail.

As long as I live, I will never know if it was intuition, Divine intervention or just plain dumb luck, but as I stood at the mailbox, shielded from view by a hedge, I heard the distinctive sound of my wife's truck coming up the street.

I froze in my tracks as I saw her turn into the driveway. Not knowing what to do, but too cold to just stand there, I finally headed for the front door. As I came into view of the driver's door, I saw my wife getting out, Valentine card in hand. She froze in place when she saw me, just as I had when I saw her truck. Neither of us knew what to say, and for a moment we both just stood there. Then our eyes met and, in that instant, I knew that she loved and missed me as much as I loved and missed her. We fell into each others' arms, catching ourselves in a hug that said what words could not. Finally she said, "I came by to drop off a Valentine. I had to bring it over, because I waited too long to mail it."

I laughed, and told her I had bought her one, too. I asked her to come in, so I could give it to her. The card read, "You will always be my Valentine, for now and for always."

My wife moved back in the next day.

It was Valentine's Day, 2009.