I want to summarize the past twelve Valentine's Days or somehow distill a meaning from all those years together, but to arrive at conclusions seems impossible and somewhat naive. There are no possible ways to adjust or exact some grand narrative that would not always inevitably conclude with words that are faulty and imprecise. There are too many paths and processes to parse together, too much tragedy, hope, despair, triumph, and the stoic and altogether mundane soldiering on which occurred and occurs every day in this life together. There are too many words for all of it to grant it adequate meaning. It would be simply too much babbling on. And yet, I suppose, there is something simple and exact enough to suffice: I love you. Always have.
To counter all that complaining for no good reason, really - or one really good reason - here is the note I wrote to my husband for Valentine's Day.