I have never once celebrated a Valentine's Day as a romantic

Hear the tender words of Delilah, who declared: “I have never once celebrated a Valentine’s Day as a romantic holiday. For me, it’s another opportunity to tell my kids or whoever how much I love them. I hang pink crepe paper and make heart-shaped pancakes!” In this simple remembrance lies a profound truth: love is not confined to the narrow borders of romance, nor to the fleeting customs of couples, but is a fire that warms family, children, and all who dwell within the circle of our care. Her words transform what many see as a day of pressure and performance into a festival of joy, sweetness, and inclusivity.

The origin of her saying comes not from the marketplace of roses and jewelry, but from the home. Delilah, a mother and nurturer, chose not to embrace Valentine’s Day as a ritual of lovers, but as a celebration of family love, of the bonds that endure through blood and daily care. In her world, the day is not about candlelit dinners or fleeting gestures, but about laughter around the table, decorations of paper, and the delight of children receiving pancakes shaped like hearts. She shows us that the essence of love is not grandeur, but simplicity, and that even humble gestures can carry eternal weight.

History offers us echoes of this wisdom. In many cultures, festivals of love were not limited to romance but encompassed the entire community. The Roman festival of Lupercalia sought to purify and bless the people, ensuring fertility and protection. In India, the devotion of families was often celebrated in seasonal festivals, where mothers, fathers, and children shared in prayers and feasts together. And even in medieval Europe, Valentine’s customs were not always about couples, but about tokens of goodwill exchanged among friends and kin. Delilah’s words remind us that to widen the circle of love is to return to this ancient inclusivity.

Consider the story of a soldier far from home, who on Valentine’s Day sent not roses to a lover but a letter to his mother, reminding her that her sacrifices were the foundation of his life. Or recall the widowed grandmother who, instead of flowers from a suitor, receives handmade cards from her grandchildren, each decorated with hearts. In both cases, love is not diminished by being shared outside of romance—it is elevated. Love multiplies when it is given freely, without restriction.

The ancients knew this as well. Did not the Hebrew scriptures command love of neighbor alongside love of family? Did not the Greeks distinguish between eros (romantic love) and agape (universal love), each sacred in its own way? To honor love only in romance is to reduce its vastness. But to honor love in all its forms—romantic, familial, fraternal—is to embrace its full glory. Delilah’s voice is an echo of this timeless wisdom, reminding us that the true feast of love is one where all may sit at the table.

Yet her practice is more than wisdom—it is joy. For in hanging pink crepe paper and shaping pancakes into hearts, she teaches us that love is not only serious, but playful. It can be light, festive, and delightful, not heavy with expectation. Children remember such gestures not for their grandeur, but for the laughter, the colors, and the taste of sweetness given in the spirit of love. She shows us that love expressed playfully becomes a memory that nourishes the soul for a lifetime.

What lesson, then, must we carry? That Valentine’s Day, and indeed every day, is what we make it. If we confine it to narrow rituals of romance, it may exclude many and burden others. But if we expand it, as Delilah has, into a day of inclusive affection, then it becomes a festival for all: for parents, children, friends, and neighbors. The truest celebration of love is not measured by roses bought or dinners reserved, but by the warmth of togetherness and the creativity of kindness.

Practical action follows easily. On Valentine’s Day, write a note to a child, call a parent, or bake something to share with friends. If you have a partner, honor them, but also remember others who dwell in your circle of love. Let every gesture, whether small or great, carry the message: you are cherished, you are remembered. For when we live in this way, every day becomes a Valentine’s, every act of kindness a heart-shaped gift, and every home a sanctuary of love.