One Valentine’s Day, my mother gave me a card featuring a heart-shaped clock. On the inside of the card were the words “Valentine, my heart ticks for you.” In addition to the card, my mother also gave me a gigantic box of Good & Plenty candy. I was eight years old. I had chicken pox. I had missed the Valentine’s Day party at school.
I remember sitting on the couch in the Florida room, holding the box of Good & Plenty and staring at it in disbelief and wonder. My mother was an extremely vocal enemy of refined sugar. She didn’t give us candy.
“What is it?” I said.
“What do you mean what is it?” said my mother. “It’s candy. It’s Good & Plenty.”
I stared at the box some more. I scratched a chicken pox.
“Don’t scratch,” said my mother.
She sat down beside me on the couch and took the box out of my hands and opened it.
“Cup your hands,” she said.
She filled my outstretched hands with white and pink pellets. She sat with me while I ate them. The room was filled with the smell of licorice. I tried not to scratch.
Happy Valentine’s Day to you. I wish you surprises and sweetness, cupped hands, love.

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