happy valentine's day

I make Alexander a card for today. 

I look through my 8,811 photos, most of my son, and find one I like of the two of us.  Great.  I will make that into a card.

And then I come to my senses.  Really, I shouldn’t be suggesting that I’m my 21-year old son’s Valentine.  Instead, I find this  picture of him at age five in Mont Tremblant.

I make him this card:

I enclose two twenties, after unsuccessfully finding any appropriate little gift that is easy to mail.

I text Alexander to tell him to check his mail.  He never does unless told.  His first response, “I hope you didn't send me a Valentine’s Day card.”  Should a mother be hurt?  Of course not.

I may not be his Valentine, but he will always be mine.