My One And Only Valentine

Its funny how she thinks it is so great, her great smart idea. She'd make cute little valentine's for my mother, hiding them in places where she was bond to go. Thats how I found out about the whole valentine's suprise thing. I opened up by refridgereator, not to find what was left of the pizza but instead to find a pink heart-shaped paper. I looked it over, to find it fovered in pictures of hearts and the word mom, but nowhere was their another name. Just mom. I guess it was my little sister's idea of a joke or something. I mean first of all, it was written in her handwritting. Second of all only people who lived in our house were my mother, my father, my sister, my dog, my cats and me . No way my dad would ever make a heart out of contruction paper for anyone. My cats and my dog hate my mother. All she ever does is yells. All that leaves is me and my sister. 1

Now it didn't take a genius to figure out who made the hearts that were scattered all over the house. I was a fourteen year old girl who is hardly ever home. The only things in the house that I loved were the ones that couldn't yell at me for loosing something or another. My little sister was a gitty ten year old with the mind of a 5 year old, maybe younger. She showed love to everyone. Now which one of us would make those stupid things? Well obviously my little sister did, and thought that my mother would think I made them!! thats a laugh! how stupid could you be? When I asked my sister that, she replied back seriously, "She won't know who made them unless you tell her." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her. Whatever, I'd leave little miss "everything is wonderful" to her fantasies. I haven't made anything for my mom since I was about six when I found the picture I worked so hard on under her bed. I still remember the picture. It was of me and my mom and butterflies. And there it was, under her stupid bed wrinkled and chewed on by my cat. That hurt alot. Call me a baby but i cried cause I thought mommy didn't love me anymore, just like she didn't love my picture. But my little sister didn't know this story. She thought that maybe my mom would believe I'd made her an early valentine. As I said before, let her have her fun, I didn't much care. 2

I sat eating my dinner as my mom walked in. "Did you find the dog's collar yet?" she asked. I shook my head and heard the expected disappointed sigh. She walked over to the refridgerator and opened it finding the heart still sitting there. "what's this?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders and flipped a page in my book. My mom walked over behind me and draped her arms over my shoulders, knowing I hated when she touched me. "Did you make me a valentine?" she asked sarcastically.  I rolled my eyes. "whatever are you talking about, mother?" I answered back in my own sarcastic tone. Just then my little sister walked in, her eyes darting between the valentine and my mother. She smiled. "did you make this for me?" My mother asked. She shook her head and grinned bigger. My sister is a horrible liar. My mom gave her a big hug and went back upstairs taking what was left of my pizza with her. I growled and tried to ignore her. "Wait mom!" my little sister said. She ran to my mother with the valentine in her hand. "don't forget this!" My mother took it and smiled again and went on her way to play solitare for an hour on the computer.3

Later that night I sat at teh computer, typing away as always. I looked down and what did I see, but a contrusction paper shaped-heart. It looked like my dog had bitten it and the chair had rollen on top of it a few times. It no longer looked like the heart my sister took so long, put so much hard work into, instead it looked broken. I sighed and picked it up. It was really sad that my mom didn't care about her children's feelings. But what did I care anyway? It was just my stupid little sister. But then I realized that I do care. I flashed back to when I was six, how much I cried when I found my picture forgotten and covered in dust. I didn't want my little sister to be sad like I was. She didn't deserve it. So I did something that I still don't understand today. I carried the valentine to my specail letter box. I set it at the bottom, covering it with all the forgotten Christmas cards. I don't get where my new change of heart came from. I guess I really do care about my little sister, even if her ideas are a little wierd. That valentine might not mean anything to my mother, but it will mean something to me. It will always mean something to me.4

The next day my sister asked about the valentine, my mother said she was keeping them all together in a specail place where only she would get to look at them. I knew that was bull. but my little sister smiled her little girl smile and got up to get dressed. I ached inside that she bielved my mother's lie, but I let it go, and went downstairs. I opened my backpack and pulled out my book. Inside was a red heart-shaped bookmark written in the same little kid handwritting I saw on the copy book on the table. It read to: torie, from:? I love you. I smiled and as my little sister came down the stairs I hugged her and whispered in her ear, "Thanks Question Mark."5