Yes. I am blind.
But not to love.
My baby boys are coming out soon. I've already scraped meringue from the bottom of the oven in preparation for the cookie making. And how did meringue get burnt to the bottom of my oven? Ah me. Well. Therein lies a story of egg whites and a Pavlova and a one tiny mistake after another until the kitchen and then half the house were filled with smoke and the smell of burnt sugar.
At one point, the Pavlova looked like this:
Now it looks like something I'm not even going to take a picture of but it resembles my skin in that it is brown and wrinkled and of a texture not anything like something delicious-looking.
It may, however, be fit to eat with sugared berries and whipped cream and so all is not lost.
Well. Mr. Moon and I have been together for twenty-nine Valentine's days and more importantly, for all of the many days and nights in-between and some burnt sugar and unappetizing-looking Pavlova is not going to take away one molecule of those days, some of them so hard I'm not sure how we got through them, but we did, together, and some of them so fraught with joy and goodness that I guess they have carried us through it all.
Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. Be ye blessed to be loved by man or woman, child or beast, just know that this is only one day of the year and it is best, as it always is, to keep things in perspective and to love back with as full a heart as possible. Life is full of troubles and woe and there is nothing that can get us through as well as love. Even if that love is for a garden or the making of poems or of songs. Just...love.
And being able to laugh as smoke fills a house and shoulders are shrugged and to be grateful and open the doors to let the smoke out and the sweet clear air in and to go on.
Will you be my Valentine?
I hope so.