The other day, I got into my van after a long day at work. I put on my seatbelt and took a dramatic deep breath. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. I was made more tired perhaps by the transition from a world I thought I could handle (work life) to a world I felt I could never make satisfactory (family life).
As my blue workhorse came to life, so did the radio. It blared. It was way too loud and shattered my peace of mind. And like my mother did almost 40 years ago, I turned off the radio quickly with as much drama and flare as an award winning actor on daytime television. Then it hit me. Valentine’s Day is around the corner. The season of love, imitation and recognition.
Love is a lot of things. Humans have tried to capture what it means to them since the first time they built a fire in a cave to keep loved ones warm. For me, it’s pictures, letters and memories because if you think about it, love isn’t really a thing. It’s not a heart. It’s not chocolates or even a dozen lilies. Love is the gift of giving. Giving what little we have. Giving a promise, a letter in the mail. A smile.
For me, love started when my mother sent me letters. They always started the same way. Always. “Just these few lines to see how you’re doing and tell you that I love you.” I’ve looked back at dozens of letters and they always start off the same way. They also usually end the same way too: “Here is some money.” Moms. They know what you need (money), and they know how to make you feel better.
Moms are important because they teach us how to love. People say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. I’d say that imitation is love. We ought to imitate the people and things we love. Write them a letter. Say you love them. Put the dishes in the dishwasher even though it’s easier to leave them in the sink. Not because you’re “told” to do it. But because love imitates the actions of those we love.
Just this morning, I lowered the heater to a reasonable 67 degrees, locked all the doors, made the bed and cleaned up before I left to work. That’s because the person I love happens to be away for a few days. Maybe I’ve been properly trained. But maybe it’s a way to show love for the people we deem worthy.
I’ve learned to be humble and respect my elders and my brothers. Both of them. One because he was the eldest and the other because he is 6 foot 1 and smashed me every chance he got. Love recognizes its limits. But it also learns not to give in and fight for its place.
From fathers, love learns to endure, to give, to be patient, to never judge, to fight, protect, to grow, work hard, learn, dig, read, listen, fish, laugh, think and to live. I can’t wait to see you all this week. Love endures.
Love strikes the resilient balance between independence and complete dependence. You are at the same time struck by its freedom and its confines. Just as much as it gives, it demands. It demands that you give back to the world everything you have received from it. But why stop there? Why not give a little more? Reflections and imitations have a strange way of magnifying what we see in the mirror. Make the world better, make it more grandiose and fabulous. Give it everything you’ve got. Make your reflection worthy of something more.
Forty years ago I couldn’t wait to go with my dad to pick up my mom from work. After I’d get home from school, we’d go for my mom at the clothing factory where she worked as a seamstress. At 3:45 p.m. a whistle would blow and hundreds of women wearing smocks filed out of the many doors in that immense white building. Like ants, they scurried out in single lines. My mom would find us and climb in. Exhausted from a long day, she would turn off the radio and say, “They turn the music on to keep us working faster. Like cattle. Turn it off.” Sacrifice is also love.
From fires in caves, to letters from far away, to making you feel safe, love never ceases. It activates, it seizes the moment and it fulfills life by imitating the people we most wish to become.
Mom, if this letter reaches you, please know that I am trying to be like you in every way, every moment and every letter that I write. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Javier Sanchez is the former mayor of Española and a twice-monthly columnist for the Rio Grande Sun.