When I talked to Mother over the weekend, she told me about her Valentine's Day. She got my package (and thanked me!). She got a box of homemade peanut brittle from L, who had promised it for Christmas but delivered a couple of months late, as usual. I refrained from making any comment even remotely nasty. You may begin heaping praise for my amazing self control.
Then I brought up the same subject I bring up every year: "Remember when Dad used to buy each of us our own heart-shaped box of chocolates and a card every Valentine's Day?" Her answer this year was the same as every year: "No." My dad put some care and thought into giving "his girls" a special Valentine's Day every single year. But Mother can't remember it. She can, however, remember every nasty comment made to her by her mother-in-law and every argument she and Dad ever had about his mother.
Please don't let me be that at 81. Please let me forget the arguments and bitterness. Let me remember the chocolates on Valentine's Day and smile.