I remember it well. Valentine’s Day, 1983. A chocolate cake with white icing on which floated a curvy, squiggly symbol which, I learned, was shorthand for “I love you.” It was the very first time Sandy let me know how she felt even though I’d been laying those words on her for weeks while, to my consternation, she remained mum.
Until that cake.
That glorious, decadent cake.
That’s just like her: “I’m not going to tell you, I’m going to show you.” And she’s been showing me for 31 straight V-Days (and all the days in between).
I love you, my joyance. Happy Valentine’s Day.