Amanda Laughtland

Summary

The author reminisces about creating handmade Valentine's Day cards as a child and cherishes a humorous yet loving card received from their sibling, symbolizing the complex dynamics of sibling relationships.

Abstract

The narrative centers on the author's childhood tradition of crafting homemade Valentine's Day cards, a practice instilled by their mother. Among these heartfelt creations, a card from the author's brother stands out, not for its romantic sentiment but for its candid expression of sibling rivalry and affection. Despite the card's cheeky message, it is a testament to the enduring bond between siblings. The author treasures this card as a keepsake and looks forward to sharing its story with their nephews, drawing a parallel to the joyful and often humorous storytelling sessions between the nephews and their grandmother. The author appreciates the authenticity of

Gratitude

My Most Memorable Valentine

It wasn’t from a romantic partner

A few days before Valentine’s Day, my mom would set my brother and me up with construction paper, doilies, stickers, glue, scissors, and whatever else we needed to create handmade cards for our friends and family.

Sometimes we asked for the store-bought ones, but I mostly remember making them. I even remember that one year I was sitting at a card table in front of the TV to watch Spud Webb win the Slam Dunk contest while I attached Tootsie Pops to paper hearts.

The most memorable valentine I ever received was a card my brother made one year. Nobody saw him make the card, and I can’t remember why he was mad at me, but apparently, he was still mad on Valentine’s Day because I received his honest feelings written in pencil.

It was a small piece of red paper with torn edges, folded into a narrow card that ran lengthwise. The front of the card said, “Happy V-Day, You Butt,” and inside he’d signed his name.

I’m pretty sure he signed it with “love.” You can think your sibling is a butt and still love them. We’re less than three years apart, and we played together and got along well. Of course, sometimes we got into it, too. Who doesn’t?

I have the card in one of the file boxes in my closet. Now and then when I’m organizing some papers, I come across it, and I always smile. The next time I find it, I’ll have to take it out to show my nephews if my brother doesn’t mind.

My brother has two boys, and sometimes when they visit my mom, they take turns writing stories together, one line at a time, which she writes down for them. No matter how many of their stories are about toilets and explosions and whatever else strikes them as funny that afternoon, she takes down their narration word for word.

One day as my mom was reading one of the stories back to the boys, my older nephew was laughing so hard that he had to hold onto a chair for support. I’m glad they’ll have these memories of a family that doesn’t insist on roses without thorns, pesky aphids, and the manure tilled into the soil that helps the flowers grow.

To read about a loving family of a different kind, I suggest the work of J.R. Spiers and his mini-village of hens.