Every Valentine’s for as long as I could remember – or read – my father would send me a card. He’d always deny it mind you, but his handwriting, swirly and distinguished, gave him away. There would be nothing inside except a heart (hand drawn) and a K (for Kayla) next to it. I think it became a game of the soul. Him, knowing my glee upon receipt and me, knowing that he took the greatest pleasure from the simplest act of love. And maybe it was just a kindness. Because I think that’s what love is all about. If you look up ‘kind’ in a thesaurus, all these palpable synonyms come up; affectionate, compassionate, understanding, tenderhearted, benevolent, humane and gracious. Mighty, mighty words. But in essence, just kind. And every letter bursting with love.
When once we stumbled on a poetry book together and found my now favorite E. E. Cummings verse, I realized that carrying someone else’s heart was the greatest and luckiest responsibility we could ever have. So for all the lovers (in whichever way love is for you right at this moment) I hope this makes you fuzzy and sparkly. It does me.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)