MEGAN LEE Star-Tribune staff writer | Posted: Wednesday, June 3, 2009 12:00 am
It wasn't the flowers, or the presents, or the morning kisses.
It was the card that made newly 23-year-old me happy.
Granted, the flowers, sent to work as a surprise, were nice. But the words inside the box were perfect.
Borrowing a bit from Shakespeare and adding his own romantic charm, my new husband wrote:
"Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt my love.
"Happy Birthday!
"You're not the woman I fell in love with. You're even better.
"Love, Dan."
When we first became roommates, before dating got in the way of open dialogue about the future, we agreed to get married - for the gifts. I was 20, and if someone had told me I'd be a married woman by 23, I would have laughed. I never wanted to get married.
Still, Dan argued, wouldn't a wedding and a reception, without all the troubles of finding "the one," be the ideal way to go?
His ex-girlfriend, Kim, was about to get married, which made him a little bitter on the subject of marriage and love. And my last relationship had been a dismal failure.
So this plan would be perfect. We would hit up all of our friends and family members for flatware, vases and checks. We could completely redecorate the apartment, we decided, at no out-of-pocket expense to us. The party of our lives, plus free stuff, without throwing away our youth? Sounded good.
To my surprise, we did end up married, but not for the presents.
Don't get me wrong - the presents were nice, and we were able to redecorate our apartment thanks to the generosity of our friends and families. But on the actual day, it wasn't about gifts.
Call me corny, but it was about being surrounded by the people you love during a life-changing event. I didn't cry the whole way down the aisle because I was losing my freedom. I cried because my dads were there, on either side of me, walking with me toward my future. And as soon as I saw Dan's face, giddy and adoring at once, I knew I was making the right decision.
The birthday note, filled with love and filed online, emphasized Dan's absolute adoration.
I never understood what my mom meant when, at each birthday or Mother's Day or anniversary, she said the gift was unimportant, and that the card mattered most.
But suddenly, on this birthday, the plain, thin cardboard headlined with "1-800-flowers.com" and printed from a computer somewhere across the country, meant more to me than any gift. The card mattered most.
Contact reporter Megan Lee at (307) 266-0616 or megan.lee@trib.com. Read her DogBlog at tribtown.trib.com/MeganLee/blog.