The Invincible Valentine
Editorial Article Written by Lesley Lorenz
Nanaimo Magazine, February, 2007
When I find myself in times of trouble – my mother calls me. How does she know? Separated by the straits of Georgia, her intuition seems to transcend the watery distance. The peaks and valleys that make up my life – on my own with three kids and a budget dictated by the whims of seasonal sales and marketing executives- are a little less daunting because of her support.
Last year, I moved to a new home in the Old City Quarter, ran for council and tried to upkeep my business and kids all in the space of two months. Mom came to stay, packing lunches and boxes and even campaigning door to door for me. Dad was here too, my official escort to dozens of hand-shaking public events. He hammered my signs back up every time they were knocked down. Homeland security, translated in my life, is the wonderful feeling that someone’s got your back when you’re facing new challenges.
As I write this, a snowstorm whirls silently around my kitchen windows, my office staff consisting only of a lazy orange tabby draped over my computer. I open an email from my Mom reminding me to meditate, it will improve my aura and by the way, do I need a recipe for Chicken Marsala? It reminds me of decades ago, when my father was away weeks at a time as a tugboat engineer, and we would often go to tea at my grandma’s house. I don’t remember much of their discussions, but we were welcomed in and sat down to watch the sunset in early winter months as we drank very sugary tea. That family level of acceptance – no invitation necessary, no particular reason for showing up, just here we are, getting Mom time.
So this Valentine’s Day, when no tall, dark and handsome stands in my doorway with long-stemmed roses and heart-shaped chocolates, I will find an email or a message from those two sweethearts whose love brought me into this world. My extra special Mom and Dad.
This Valentine treat from my son, Max
OH NO
I lost my heart
I can’t find it
Where can it be?
I just remembered
It belonged to you
© Lesley Lorenz