Heart-shaped balloons and hopeful romanticism

Yesterday, I was charmed by a sight I saw several times throughout the day:

men alone, struggling against the wind and carrying Valentine’s Day gifts for their sweethearts. The first one was in a parking lot in Joliet, the second making his away through a crosswalk in Chicago. Both were carrying red heart-shaped mylar balloons, and one had flowers. Both were in a hurry.

I don’t know the stories, or for who those gifts were intended.

But the recipients are irrelevant. Just seeing these men warmed my heart. It wasn’t happening to me, but knowing it was for someone else made me happy.

I remember. I have been the lucky one to receive a dozen long-stemmed red roses, delivered with a sweet card. It was years ago, but even the fact that it happened once makes me smile. Every woman should be spoiled like that at least once in her lifetime.

I have been delighted by the simplest things, when the man was someone special.

Yes, right now I’m alone. But I remain hopeful.

That’s one thing about me that doesn’t change: my heart believes.

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