Hearts

I love Valentine's Day. I always have. The day is all about love and red-- one of my favorite colors-- and hearts. So, I am going to come right out and say it it: I love hearts. There. Why did it take me so long to admit?

Because saying you love hearts makes you sound sappy and overly sentimental, at best-- at worst, banal. In 1980's vernacular, hearts are "cheesy" and when I grew up that was the worst thing you could be. So, all my life I never admitted my love for them, but no longer. I am owning it.

If you were to come to my house and dig around my "stuff," that would be terribly invasive-- but you would also find hearts everywhere. I have heart rings, heart-shaped pendants, hearts on clothing and a small collection of heart-shaped stones on the top of my dresser. I love hearts- but not ALL hearts. They have to be graphically interesting or super basic and not thrown in with a bunch of doilies or lace because that would be sappy. (wink)

When I was nine, I got a set of small rectangular punch stamps not much bigger than the size of a quarter. There was a star, a tree and a heart. Over the years, in my nomadic trek from suburban Long Island, to college at UC Davis, broadcast news in San Diego and eventually to LA, I've culled my collection. Today, only the heart stamp remains. 

Maybe I didn't want to admit it because hearts are for 9 year-old girls not grown-ass women, like myself. In my quest for peace and contentment, I am identifying things that make me happy-- things big and small. As I uncover more of what fills my soul, I find myself less likely to seek comfort in sugary quick fixes. Hearts are one of my happy-making things. I love them and today, I am not afraid to admit it.