Valentine’s Day used to hit me like a bluesy saxophone on a gentle New Orleans night. It reminded me of what was not there. I had thoughts about what hadn’t happened yet. I was even plagued with thoughts of love should look by now. But honey, this year, there is a whole different rhythm in the air.
Valentine’s Day will feel different when you already know you
are the main character in your own parade.
It is not about someone showing up with roses or an over-the-top
dinner reservation down in the French Quarter. Would it be nice? Hell, yeah. However,
it is about me showing up for myself every single day. I am talking about the
kind of unwavering devotion you see in a second line procession. Somewhere
between king cake and café au lait, I realized love is not something I am
waiting on. It is the very beat I am stepping to.
I have come to understand that love is not about grand gestures
or fleeting attention. It is discipline. It is having your own back when the
crowd’s gone home. It is talking sweet to yourself on the tough days. Oh, it is
also protecting your peace even when it would be easier to let loneliness sneak
in like a mime dancing to Mardi Gras Mambo.
This season of my life? It is all about choosing myself in
small, soulful ways that do not call for applause. Keeping my bills paid on
time, because ain’t nobody got time for late fees! Resting when my body needs
it, the way a bayou breeze calms the evening. Creating routines that nurture
the woman I am becoming. Walking away from conversations and people who rattle
up my spirit like an out-of-tune zydeco band.
That is love, Louisiana-style.
I have also learned that romanticizing your life does not mean
playing pretend that everything is somehow perfect. It is finding beauty in
stability. It is enjoying the sweetness of quiet nights. It is the comfort of
steady progress. Plus, it is confidence that comes when you refuse to trade
your peace for anyone’s validation. It is knowing you will never abandon
yourself just for a flicker of attention.
This Valentine’s Day is not about proving anything to the world.
It is about honoring the journey. The bayous I have crossed. The storms I have
weathered. The strength I have found along the way. The love I used to chase
down Decatur Street was always meant to start within. Because of that, my
standards are higher now. They are not harsher, clearer, like a Louisiana
morning after a hard shower of rain.
I am not waiting to be chosen anymore. I have already picked
myself. I’m talkin’ beads and all.
Here is the real lagniappe; When love comes knocking on my door
again, it will be the spice in my gumbo; not the whole roux. An addition. A pleased
extra which is not a necessity. Only because I have already laid the foundation
strong as a comfort meal on a Sunday after church.
As Valentine’s Day drifts by, I am bringing this rooted, soulful
love straight into every season. That is especially to the ones filled with
celebration. I am learning that happiness does not have to be loud to be true. Plus,
fun does not have to cost me my peace of mind. With Mardi Gras right around the
corner, I find myself thinking about how I celebrate these days. I am also
thinking about why protecting my energy is now a cherished part of my
tradition. Laissez les bons temps rouler, but only if it feels right in my
soul.
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