I don't want chocolates on Valentine's Day.
I don't want you to go to local pharmacy and pick up the first heart-shaped box and wait in line, fingering the bright red cellophane as you try to balance the chocolates alongside deodorant, aspirin, and the 18 oz Gatorade bottle. I don't want you to dart into the Hallmark section and pick up whatever card you can find.
I don't want to go to a restaurant on Valentine's Day. I don't want to deal with the reservations and the prix fixe menus and the obviously price gouging. I don't want to go into an overcrowded room with a million other couples and pretend like this is somehow a beautiful and unique experience.
I don't want jewelry for Valentine's Day. I have my wedding rings, I have the various knick-knacks and jewelry you picked up for me "just because". I shine enough when you're around. I don't need a ruby to add onto that.
What I want is adventure. What I want is for us to pack our bags and do whatever and build memories together. I want to shovel out a driveway side by side and dump snow on you, because I know it'll start a snowball fight and we'll both end up laughing. I want to made a crude joke and banter back and forth and be reminded just how much I had lucked out.
What I want is a genuine representation of what we have. And that won't involve obligatory chocolates or a bangle from Zales or a French restaurant where we have to order three courses for $100 a piece. Because that isn't what Valentine's Day should be about. It's about us, and that's what I want.