to love.

There isn't much I expect anymore from the day of love. This is not a cynicism, really, though I am quite capable of that. It's more of a comfortability with reality. There is a cycle one gets used to after all these years, and it's not something to lament, but rather, celebrate. And that's what I do. I celebrate the love I am surrounded by.

I am not the biggest fan of weddings...The stress, planning, excess, stress, confusion, distraction from the lifelong commitment you are about to enter into, stress. But the things I love about weddings, and have always have loved about them is, well, the LOVE. These two people, whoever they are, have chosen to celebrate their love and their commitment to each other with with all of the people they love the most. Being in a few weddings has given me in insider's perspective into the amount of affection, apart from the that of the bride and groom, and it's something wonderful, celebrate-able. I remember when my friend Renee got married last January and had aunts and uncles flying in from all over to witness and be a part of the occasion. This is phenomenal to me...People loving you so much that they will disrupt their lives to be a part of the things that are important to you.

So carry over that concept to February the fourteenth. It's excessive. I don't like the pressure it puts on the couple, the man especially. I have heard many of my friends sigh in disappointment because their boyfriend or husband or fiance didn't handle it they way they wanted..."He took me to dinner but hadn't made any reservations"..."He bought me flowers, despite the fact that I always tell him I don't like getting flowers"..."I know he's really stressed, but he didn't even remember it was Valentine's Day until the fifteenth"...Um. Hello? There are many things in life worth making a ruckus about. I just don't think this is one of them. And I don't like that this arbitrary holiday that someone deemed the day in which we are supposed to let people know how we feel (as if we shouldn't always let people know how we feel) puts unrealistic expectations upon a relationship, that's full of enough complications already, so much so that we get disappointed with, and even upset, at the person we love the most.

And then, of course, there's the part I very much enjoy: The fact that I am privy to moments of love from others. Working in a fine dining restaurant on Valentine's Day is the ideal scenario for engagement with these moments. My section was upstairs, which meant in moments of in between, I was able to stop at the top of the stairs, look down at the bustle in the restaurant, and take all that crazy love in. The fact that these people went out of their way to plan a nice dinner with each other because of the love that they have, and that they were choosing to be in the company of the other...This, like the aunts and the uncles flying in for a wedding, is wonderful, celebrate-able.

I had already worked brunch that morning, serving up lovable food early in the day, and had also successfully and exhaustedly thrown a cocktail party the previous evening. These two events left very little energy in my tired being, and I wasn't sure if I had the emotional capacity to devote time and attention to couples out for a special dinner. When the boss man asked if anyone wanted to work expo (running food out to tables and preparing bread baskets, etc.) and leave early (and likely make less money) I willingly raised my hand. This also meant, if there were any walk-ins (couples that hadn't made a reservation) they would be seated in our upstairs room and given to me.

I wasn't prepared for the amount of goodness and loveliness encompassed in Elders, the lone couple that walked into my evening.

Before the Elders' entered our restaurant, I had some Valentine's Day Dove chocolate and also, a message written inside. The chocolate was milk, and the message instructed me to take five deep breaths. That was all. I tried, made it to three, and lost interest. I wondered why this Dove chocolate was giving me yoga like advice, and wasn't prepared for the help it would be later on, after the Elders' exit.

They were in their sixties, I suppose, and requested the vegetarian menu. "If it has eyes", they said, "we don't eat it". They also referred to me as Meredith the entire evening, and joked with me as well. After the eyes comment, the male Elder made a corny joke about how they don't even eat potatoes, as the spots on them look too much like eyes. Serving people for a living can be very demoralizing. You are there to get them things, and they don't typically show concern for the name your parents gave you. The Elders' called me by name, invited me into their humor, and appreciated every bite of their meal. These things set them apart. She really appreciated that the chutney on the corn pancakes was tart rather than too sweet, and their entrees were both so delicious that they couldn't choose one as the best...She shared a bite of her salad with her husband before she had even taken a bite, and it was so enjoyable that she wanted to save it to eat with her meal. Her entree was enjoyed with thought and care, and she had the excess boxed up so she could thoughtfully and carefully enjoy some dessert; Somewhere during some course, it was as if I stopped serving them and they started serving me.

By the end of the meal, they had, quite literally, made my Valentine's Day. After I left them with their last refill of decaf coffee, I let them know this. They sipped their coffee, enjoyed their final moments in the upstairs room, signed their bill, and let themselves out. When I returned to the room, after clearing their dessert plates, they were gone. I picked up the check, read the personal "thank you, Meredith" that they had left on the receipt and the abundant tip they had left for me, and that's the moment I hadn't prepared for. The tears came out, with full force, and I couldn't seem to get them to stop. I was crying because of tiredness, and also, because I was able to serve two people that were still, after many years of marriage, clearly crazy about each other, and allowed me to share that with them. I am an idealist, and though I have come across many unhappy couples on my life's journey, I don't believe unhappiness or discontentment is inevitable. My aunt and uncle, two of the most influential people in my life, celebrated sixty-five happy years together last week. This is something I am holding out for, and when I come across two people, like the Elders, that prove my philosophy and belief, which is anchored in lofty hopes and expectations, is quite possible, I am moved to tears...Deep seeded tears.

So there I was, alone in the upstairs room, crying myself to craziness. I am a problem solver, and I was quickly trying to problem solve myself out of this extremely emotional moment that was coming at a really inopportune time, as I wasn't done working, and the restaurant beneath me was still full to the brim of smiling happy people and echos of laughter. There were also still dishes to be put away and food to be ran to these happy laughing tables, and the unstable girl upstairs by the name of Meredith was going to have to find a way to pull it together, quickly. After about a minute of tears, and resting my hand on the edge of the chair for stability, I remembered my Dove Chocolate of wisdom, and took advantage of the yoga advice I had been disappointed by earlier.

I walked to the corner toward the light and closed my eyes. I breathed in, and then out, and then did that four more times. Tears in check, I walked downstairs, retrieved the blue plastic container of dishes off of the top of the dish rack and carried the container of glasses to the server's room. I put away the glasses, which were still covered in tearlike water droplets from the wash, with thoughtfulness and care.