I have this cowboy boot box that I got from my dad years and years ago when he bought new boots. Inside that box are treasures. Not treasures to anyone else, but treasures to me. There are letters and pictures and post cards and journals from high school. There are old newspaper articles and tiny trinkets from my childhood including a gown I wore as a newborn. And there are cards. I don't save cards normally. I put them on the fridge or book shelf for a few days then toss them. But in this box there are a few special birthday cards. And one valentine. I don't know how old I was when it was given to me, but the date on the back is 1974. When you open it, an alligator head pops out with mouth open wide. Alvin the alligator is agreeing that I should be the sender's valentine. And the sender was my dad. I don't really remember deciding to save this one valentine out of all the ones I've received. But I can guess why I saved it. I saved it because it was from my very first valentine. The one who loved me first and most. The one who I knew I could count on then and can count on now. The one who has told me in word and deed for as long as I can remember that he loves me.
And yesterday he gave me another valentine. A beautiful card with a beautiful message. To think that he went to the store and picked up card after card searching for just the right one for me is such a special thought. And the one he chose, just for me, is perfect. Just perfect. I love it and will treasure it. And after it sits on the book shelf for a few days, I will put it with the other one in my box of treasures.