My Oldest Valentine

Bob is definitely my favoritest (is that a word?) Valentine in the whole world.  But my oldest Valentine (as in number of years) has got to be my dear brother, Wes.  He has been my Valentine for 53 years, and I can't remember one year when he has not sent me a Valentine of some sort.  

When he attended school , I remember crying as he packed his goodies and Valentine cards because I soooo wanted to to be old enough to go to school and because I wanted to attend a Valentine's Party too.  Well, my dear brother saved his napkin and a few little goodies from his party and brought them home in his lunch pail so him and I could have a little "Valentine's Party" at the kitchen table.  

He's not here, but my "Valentine's Party" started today with the arrival of this box:

Which contained this (and a mushy Valentine card - just the kind I like):

Which contains these:

I might be going down fat, but at least I'm going down happy!!!  And, as I'm known to say, "When they close that casket lid, they don't talk about how big your hips were.  They just say all this nice stuff about you."

In closing, I'll share my favorite picture of my brother and I.  You will notice he was willing to share his lollipop with me, but he DIDN'T let me touch it.  I think he knew me too well.

To the outside world, we all grow old.

But not to brothers and sisters.

We know each other as we always were.

We know each other's hearts.

We share private family jokes.

We remember family feuds and secrets,

family griefs and joys.

We live outside the touch of time.

Clara Ortega