My Valentine

As I am writing this, it is almost one half hour before Valetine's Day is over. It was an uneventful day, except one thing.

I arrived home, tired and worn. The day was cold but did not chill.

This holiday from early on has not interested me, ever. In fact, I had to remind myself throughout the day to remember.

I pulled into my dark driveway, looking at the house, empty and alone. Glancing at the front door, I saw what looked like a notice propped up on the firewood I had on the slate porch and was too lazy to move into the house.

Damn. Was it some kind of notice of some kind? Eh, I would soon find out.

I collected my things from my vehicle and trudged in the semi-lit walk to the front door. I picked up the white paper that was oddly and prominently placed.

It dropped from my hand.

There was something attached to it; I was so annoyed that it fell, I barely glanced at it in the semi dark light.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit area that only let me view things in black and white, I noticed the single, luscious long stemmed rose.

Who could have left it I wondered?

I opened the door, entered the foyer and headed into the house.

Putting my things down, I looked at the red velvety rose. The note was written to me in a handwriting I recognized.

"Dear Aunt Muse, would you be my first Valentine? Love, CD."

I started to weep. CD is my beautiful ten month old nephew, my most wonderful Valentine.