Still the one

February 1983 --

Mark’s ship, the USS Forrestal, had recently arrived at the Philadelphia Shipyard for extensive renovations. After two years of prolonged absences, we were now a two-hour car ride apart, and planned to see each other every weekend he was not on duty.

Valentine’s Day weekend was the first such opportunity, but Mother Nature had other plans as a blizzard arrived on Friday, crippling the East Coast from Virginia to New England. Regardless, Mark traveled by train, bus and – eventually -- his own two feet, to get to his parents’ house in Irvington, NJ. But he didn’t have a car to drive to West Orange, so the rest was up to me.

The storm was gone by Saturday morning, and the sun shone brightly. Roads were slushy but passable. As Dad and Anthony shoveled the driveway, I anxiously waited for this final barrier between me and my Valentine to be removed.

Belatedly, Anthony paused with a puzzled frown. “Wait a minute, Dad! It’s Saturday. Why are we doing this?”

“Because your sister’s in love!” my Dad said with wry exasperation. Shaking their heads in unison, the scrape of shovel-removing-snow resumed and, before long, I was on my way.

I don’t recall the restaurant where we ate dinner that night, but I do remember Mark double-parking the car en route to dash into a store. He returned with a perfume bottle filled with pink carnations. I still have the bottle – with its heart-shaped stopper -- on my dresser.

Back then, I had no idea that our love would continue to blossom and deepen as we have shared the trials and triumphs of our life together. The song, Still the One by Orleans, sums it up nicely.

We’re still having fun, and you’re still the one.

Happy Valentine’s Day!