Somewhere in a shoebox, I have a picture of orange and white roses in a glass vase with a bow made out of raffia. It was before I had a digital camera, so I don't have the picture electronically. But I don't really even need the picture - I can still see them like it was yesterday.
It was about a week after we met and you went all around town to find those orange and white roses - to rub it in a little bit more that the Longhorns had annihilated Texas Tech. We met during the game on Saturday, and then you left for Atlanta on Sunday morning. We talked for hours every night while you were gone. I was a smitten kitten. When you got back into town, we had dinner and you gave me the roses. I'd gotten flowers before, but never flowers that had so much meaning. You could have gone to the local grocery store, or even the local florist, but instead you searched for those orange roses because it was a part of our story. Our love story.
And that was the first time you went above and beyond for me. You didn't do what was easiest, you did what you thought would mean the most to me. And you continue to do it day after day. Thank you.
So, even though every day with you is a holiday - Happy St. Valentine's Day from the luckiest girl in the world. I love you. (And now it's published on a blog for everyone to see, so there's no taking it back.) xoxo