This is our second valentine's, so I didn't have any hope for a surprise from my husband blessed with blissfully poor memory for dates and anniversaries. So I planned my little secret shopping, conspiring within myself, happy with my plans, and so glad that he hadn't found out I had been out of the house to buy stuff for the day. I knew he would be surprised, so I didn't spend too much time on the gift, cos I knew he'd be bowled over anyway. Got the recipe from my maami to make his favourite cake, which was to be made in the shape of a heart, and again a surprise. I was gloating with pleasure.
Come D-Day, I was watching the time to break the surprise and was imagining his happiness. To make the opening grander I started talking about our first Valentine's day, and he apologized that he had totally forgotten about it this year. No surprise! I got up to get the gift and surprise him, when he got up to the shelf and brought back a little red boxed wrapped in satin ribbon, and on unwrapping I found the most beautiful heart shaped Diamond pendant on a delicate chain. I almost swooned, not from the gift, but at the thought of the petty gift I had bought for him. I blushed for shame, and I blush to mention what I got for him, so I won't. He took it so gracefully as if I had got him something precious. Blush again. And the greatest insult was when he said he knew I was up to something when I starting hoarding money, something which I have never done since he got me my credit card. Oh, well. Instead of surprising I ended up surprised.
But then I never give up, I had planned on surprising him, and surprise him I will. Ah, the cake should do the trick. The evening found me happily humming a tune as I mixed the ingredients, and then I stepped out of the kitchen after placing 100gms of butter to melt in the microwave. Coming back, I heard loud blasts coming from inside the oven, and on opening found melted butter dripping from the top and spluttered all over inside. Is it safe to use the oven again? Only one way to find out, I called Andrew, and the surprise was out again. That's it! No more surprises for the day. We went out for dinner, and they gave red roses to all the young ladies, and I got one too. We were walking home, me happily holding the rose and thinking how beautiful the city looked at night, when a little boy of about 3 years old ran past us. It was 10:30 at night, and there were no adults near by, and we stopped to watch him. He stopped a bit farther from us, looked around confused, and then continued to run ahead, crossed two roads, fell down, got up and kept running. Everyone stopped to watch wondering where he came from. Andrew ran after the kid, and I waited. I must have been a pretty sight to watch - a solitary woman standing out late at night on Valentine's day, holding a red rose in her hand, (blissfully unaware of the price tag on my jacket, of course!). Men gave me curious glances and women bestowed me with unpleasant looks, and the absurdity of my situation struck me. I could have clawed Andrew then, and happily.
After some 15 minutes he was back carrying the kid, accompanied by another good Samaritan who had stopped to help. They had called the police and soon the boy was united with his anxious parents. He had got lost following a cat, which had escaped long ago. When I asked him for his father's name, he smiled sweetly and said, "Appa." We were glad to have done our good deed for the day. We left the happy family behind, and when we were near home, and I asked Andrew, "Hasn't this been a beautiful day, can it get any better?" But the gentleman had to choose that moment to ask, "Did you know...?" Hmm, Well, you know the rest!
Now that I look back, the cake was beautiful and delicious - heart shaped as I had wished it to be. We were blessed with our car being delivered on the same day, I had Andrew's gift around my neck, a new jacket...and best of all - I had my very own Valentine. It really doesn't get any better than that!