A Note To My Younger Self

Happy Valentine’s Day

Dear Younger Me,

You think Valentine’s Day belongs to couples. To grand gestures and flowers and handwritten cards. To being chosen - romantically. Like once you find it, everything else will fall into place.

You’re not wrong—but you’re not finished learning.

I have loved and lost many times. I married. I tried. That marriage lasted eleven years. When it ended, I thought love might have ended with it. I thought maybe I had missed my chance. I thought Valentine’s Day would always feel like a reminder of what I no longer had. But here I am—single, steady, and genuinely happy.

Last week, I set the table for a Valentine’s dinner with Linen, Stable, and Port while John and Meg went out on a date. We had heart-shaped plates. There was laughter, chaos, and plenty of crumbs. Tiny hands helped arrange dessert like it was the most important event of the year.

And there was love. Real love. Abundant love.

That’s the part you didn’t know yet. Love is not just romance. Love is teaching. Love is nannying, babysitting, showing up. Love is being trusted with bedtime routines and scraped knees and big feelings that don’t yet have the right words. Love is when a child reaches for your hand without thinking, or runs up to you at church with the BIGGEST hug because they “haven’t seen you in a week!”

Love is being someone’s safe place—even temporarily.

Love is being remembered long after the evening ends.

When you were young, you thought Valentine’s Day was for lovers. But love comes in so many shapes and forms.

It’s the friend who knows your story without needing updates.

It’s the family you’re born into and the family you build along the way.

It’s the cousin who plans a Valentine’s meal and prepares goodie bags for your children, knowing it’ll be the only goodie bags they get!

It’s curling up on the couch beside Jackson and watching him play his game. Tearing up as you breathe in the reality that he’ll be seven years old this year and you’ve had the priviledge of being his “Waggy” since day one.

It’s choosing a life that fits—even if it doesn’t look like the one you imagined.

Romantic love matters. It’s beautiful and meaningful and worth hoping for. But it is not the only kind of love that counts, and it is not the measure of your worth.

Being loved by children is one of the world’s greatest gifts. It is pure and honest and unfiltered. Their love asks nothing of you except presence. It doesn’t care about your past or your plans—only that you are there.

When I shared our Valentine dinner with those kids, they didn’t see someone single or divorced or in-between chapters. They saw their Andy who loves them, always shows up, and who made the night feel special.

That is love.

So if Valentine’s Day ever feels quiet, different or just not what you expected, look closer. Love may be right there—laughing at the table, holding your hand, trusting you completely.

You are not lacking. You are deeply and abundantly loved.

One day, you’ll understand that love is never just about being chosen by one person—it’s learning to recognize all the people in your life who already love you!