Joan's Blog

"Watch Me Pull A Rabbit Out Of My Hat"
FEBRUARY 13, 2013 7:31AM

Heart Spackle

Rate: 41 Flag

When my daughter was little, she chose Disney princess Valentines from the neighborhood CVS for all her classmates. She signed each one with the backward "J" that didn't face the right direction until the middle of first grade. I waited patiently at the check-out as she looked  over the selection, choosing carefully between Ariel or Jasmine. Belle or Cinderella.

Disney princesses for all!

Except for her dad and me. Weeks before Valentine's Day, she worked behind her closed bedroom door. Writing poems, cutting, pasting, drawing and painting. We knew to knock on her door so we wouldn't see the creations before the big day.

The gifts were unusual. Unique. Having no artistic talent myself, I marveled at the things she produced as she emerged triumphant from her bedroom/workshop. There were small pillows she had sewn with tiny buttons glued to the tops.  Dolls made out of yarn. Dolls made out of cornhusks.  Paper mache maracas. One year, tiny oil paintings appeared from behind the closed door, as if by magic. 

The words on the cards were the best part. Sometimes they rhymed. Sometimes they didn't.  Words that filled my heart, no matter which direction the letters faced.

I never cared about Valentine's day until she came along. Roses, candy and Hallmark never interested me. 

Being loved so fiercely. That interested me.

 The power, the force, the fierceness behind this tiny person's love for me filled up every hole I had in my heart.

I know I will not get a handmade card this year. Those are a thing of the past.  The cards and gifts I treasure are kept in a box under my bed.

She is not a child anymore. She may still remember, between midterm exams, to call home.

 Chatting about this and that, she will be unaware that once again her words are like spackle over the tiny cracks in my heart.

 

 

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Evocative, and, as the mother of another growing-up-child, very familiar. (Except for the artistic part). Yesterday Sam sent me a text that said "I love you." It was like winning the lottery. Thank you for this.
Wonderful.

And yes, I miss those types of gifts and moments now that both of my sons are in their 20s. But, like you, I've kept their past creations so I can relive those precious times each time I open-up the storage tub.
Oh, Joanie, that's lovely. Rated.
If you send her this, you might get a handmade Valentine every year forever after. Home made Valentine insurance.

My mom got a homemade Valentine every year that she breathed and I had hands. Big box of them when we went through her stuff, some of my best work.
yes; it's what they do, our children! beautiful metaphor!

r.
as Tink would say..
*tears*
sigh.. so wonderful..
HUGGGGGGGGGGG
Beautiful memories. I too saved the homemade cards/gifts the kids gave me. Every now and then I come across them a dream of thsoe days past. But..now I have my grandkids doing the same it fills your heart forever. Wonderful Joan. ~r
That is so nice to read Joan.

Mrs. has been behind closed doors the past few nights . she will emerge on the big day with a sackful for thirty or so little ones.
Spackle for their hearts.
Spackle. Love that. I have some spackle still because my oldest sent my mom and I cool packages and my youngest worked to make the cards with the granddaughter who at 2 still believes in love.
Thanks for sharing this. I have kept every artistic piece created by my daughter when they were young. Love in action.

R.
Oh the tender love of a child. And then these words, "she will be unaware that once again her words are like spackle over the tiny cracks in my heart." So very very true.
as you so carefully describe, the gifts may change but the sentiment and its importance in your life never do. those girls and the way they fill our hearts ...
Happy Valentine's Day, Joan. Your writing is always spackle for my own heart.
Oh, I so get these, and I have my own box of treasures. The best Valentine for you is that you have raised a lovely, smart, caring young woman who is contributing to the goodness of the world. R.
I wish there were a way to package that special spackle that only our children know how to produce. Imagine the market for such a glue.

Lezlie
Annie, I would treasure that text for life. xox

Joisey, the great thing about them being young adults, is watching them turn into our friends.

Susan, thank you.

Greenie, she will read this, I'm sure. And really, the cards don't matter anymore. She is the gift. :)

Jonathan, thank you~

Linda, thank you for the hugs!

ThroughMyEyes, thank you for reading. I'm sure grandchildren add so much to the loving mix!

alsoknownas, Mrs. alsoknownas has a beautiful heart.
I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day - but this - this is a gift. Thanks for sharing. ♥
never cared about Valentine's day until she came along. Roses, candy and Hallmark never interested me.

Being loved so fiercely. That interested me.
~
Me too! But..from an adult.
Are you saying i must procreate to be loved fiercely, for awhile,
and then when she/he goes off to the world
i shall be a poor silly goofball
with a box fulla memories well protected?
arg.
ha great post.
zanelle, spackle is good. I feel my heart cracks patch up every time I'm with her. I hope your granddaughter believes in love for a long time...:)

Lyle, "love in action" Nicely put!

Mary, I know you know. xox

toritto, I think I may have said this before, but I have the feeling your daughters were (and still are) very lucky.

femme, if anyone knows about loving and being loved fiercely, it's you. And now you get to have it again...xox

Jeanette, thank you so much for that.

Bea, we both have treasures under the bed, and in just a few states away...xox
This is beautiful, Joan. Really beautiful.
This is a beautiful, touching Valentine to our children, who are loved and treasured, and to us, lucky enough to be loved in return. A bouquet of memories and sparkling spackle to warm our hearts.
Oh, Lezlie, we'd be rich!

Seer, thank you for reading and commenting.

Barb, thank you!

James, are you calling me a "poor silly goofball?"

aw, froggy, thank you. :)

Sally, that's the gift, really. That we *are* lucky enough to love and be loved in return. And when the day comes when they become our friends as well, it's a real bonus. :)
This former nice blog makes Folk go see VAMC Psuch Dept.
I rarely find time to visit Here. I miss the reads and diversity.
Maybe if I sip a few 'DIG' beers? I'll write a book? No. Blog.
`
Mo Son found an old time Spackler. I thought of Wall Spackler.
He bought a wonderful Home that need Wall Spackling Repairs.
It's almost a Miracle (Pope agree?) to Find Honesty Spacklers.


Today homes are built with cheap wallboard. You blow down?
Three Little Pigs may Blow Wall Street Bankers? O, House too.
Hi Joan. Good Expression of Love. I get all chewed up candies.

I bought my Grandchildren Amish Chocolates. If the no like?
They Promised to Save Each Chewed Candy Piece for Pa Pa.
Nice Daughter etc., You have skills to say what we no do say.
"Being loved so fiercely. That interested me." ~ lovely, timely
Very good. You had some holes needing mending no doubt.

You no longer post at Our?
Art, you make me happy when you stop by. Pre-chewed candy is love, too.

Gabby Abby, thank you. Timely, for Valentine's day, but unconventional, I know. This year I just wanted to write about this kind of love...

Thank you, Ll2~

tr ig, thank you for reading. Yes, you will see this again tomorrow on Open for Valentine's Day... :)
Tr ig, gah, I typed "Open" and meant "Our."
This is so sweet, Joan. There is nothing like a valentine from one's kid..it is a straight-up labor of love, an unequivocal declaration. You really captured exactly what is sweet about about being loved by a child. xoxox to you.
Oh Joan, isn't it the truth? You made me teary. Again.
"Heart spackle"--how creative you are with words.
Oh man. This is my Anna. She's a genuine "artists" - just ask her. My valentine this year said "I love you more than my make-up." It's all a mother can ask for. R
This is the best thing I've read about Valentine's Day this year. Or maybe ever.