So, after writing yesterday, I was talking with a friend and reminiscing about Valentine's past. I couldn't quite remember why I loved the holiday so much, but I sure remembered a reason why I should hate it...here goes.
It was a sunny Valentine's Day in Mississippi. I was floating on air because I was a sassy 6th grader (the top of the school in Mississippi elementary schools, but no matter...). I finally started "going with" my longtime 5th/6th grade crush, Tad Doolittle (yes, that was his name--you'll see why in a minute). We changed classes in the hallway, along with 5th grade, and I anxiously awaited seeing him there because we had different homeroom classes. I wondered, "Will I finally get a card or rose this year?" I had never had a Valentine before. Oh, the anticipation.
There he was...scrawny, skinny, and lovely. Oh, so popular. He walked over to me with a rose in front of the whole upper elementary. Wow, so public a display! "This gets better and better," I thought. Everyone was watching as he handed me the rose...but, I noticed something wasn't right. The silk rose had been colored black with a marker. What's this? A note that read something to the effects of, "I don't want to spend Valentine's with you, Bucky!"
But, you're probably thinking...hey, your name is Katie. You may even be thinking, why did he call you Bucky? Funny you should ask. Well, at the time (before braces really started being slapped on at birth), I had extremely hidious buck teeth. [Please insert your thoughtful, "Wow, but your teeth look so hot NOW" comment, wink..wink] Darn that Tad Doolittle! He took a perfectly great holiday and potentially soiled it.
But I realized after I remembered the story with my friend that one "doolittle" can't wreck a day of the year when I celebrate and give thanks for the most important thing on earth...people and relationships.
It also helps to know that ol' Tad later went to prison for constructing a bomb or something. Poor guy. [conceal inappropriate laughter now]