Mary Ann Hayes

There was a time when Valentine’s Day meant slipping coyly between the sheets wearing  skimpy bits of satan and lace after a glass or two of champagne and a heart shaped box of Sees’ Chocolates. Those were the days, weren’t they?

Remember how it was before babies? When we were young and firm and everything was right  where it was supposed to be?  Me neither.

Yet, I suppose I could try it again. Just for laughs–for old times sake. Dig out one of those teddies and try to stuff myself into it. Then put on some stilletoes and prance around the house. The problem is, I’ll fall and break my neck in those stupid shoes and the teddies are long gone along with the fit little body they adorned. 

I always remind myself that the girl I used to be is still here, somewhere. She’s just tucked away under a nice layer of life. Youth is over-rated anyway. It doesn’t come with experience, knowledge, patience and tolerance. Those are character traits we earn through years and years of groveling our way through the traumas and terrors and pitt falls of reality. You know–raising kids, living from pay check to pay check, loving the relatives, wondering where all the friends went and what they’re doing now. Probably the laundry. 

This Valentines Day I plan to over eat with dear friends, drink a little champagne and orange juice and take a long nap with my husband and our dogs. We’ll wear sweats so we can let it all hang out after our hearty brunch. We’ll snore, all four of us. It’ll be a great day. I can hardly wait!

 Later,

Mary Ann