Valentine's day the girls left for school smiling about their creations.
Grandma Martha and I took Sophie and our little men out to lunch at Carl's, because Grant loves to jump through the shark's teeth in the playzone. Then I dropped the group off at home, and drove to the elementary school, marveling at the day's perfection.
The grey skies had given way to brilliant blue and sun-- creating thin silver shadows on the crusty patches of snow, as the tree branches stretched out in proud, bare, elegance. I noticed that muddy brown earth was beginning to appear in odd shaped circles around the warmth of tree trunk and root, and the evidence of a hundred twisting paths and a thousand steps in January could be observed melting into too long ago to remember.
And while the teenagers had groused traditionally about Valentines--facing the prospect of the potential mentioning of the holiday at school with obligatory annoyance, the elementary school was all 1979 and I was eight again when I saw the parking lot filled with mini-vans and moms carrying sheets of cupcakes veiled in foil.
I had signed up to help in Mary's classroom.