Somewhere in the attic is a box....and another....and another......that looks like this one. Every year of my life until the year that he died, on Valentine's Day, he brought one home with him - one for her and one for me.
I wouldn't have cared for them anyway.
It was the same every year.
Wonderfully the same.
A red medium sized heart-shaped box of chocolates
with a red plastic rose and a ribbon.
It was this:
As if on cue, he would enter with a smiling faithful gift for both of us on February 14th. He would kiss my grandmother on the cheek as she hugged his laughing belly, cup my uplifted adoring face with the other hand and ask, "How's my girl?"
I knew I was his girl.
Psst! A little birdie told me that today is Nick's birthday. Please go wish him a happy happy.
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