Think On It... Valentine’s Day Is Not Just for Lovers On the first Valentine’s Day after the world reopened, Daniel lingered in the card aisle, surrounded by red hearts and flowery promises. None of them knew how to speak to his sister.
Down the racks, he found a simple card with no roses or flowers, only a blank space inside. At home, he thought about sending a text, then an email, but both felt cold and distant. Some things needed a voice. A card, something that could not only be seen and read, but also held to feel the sentiment. He wrote slowly. No arguments. No apologies. Just this: You are my sister. I love you. I miss you. After a pause, he added one more line: The past can rest now. A week later, his phone rang. Clara’s name appeared, solid and real. They spoke for an hour—carefully at first, then easily. They did not reopen old wounds or debate who had been right. Before hanging up, they made plans to visit. When Daniel set the phone down, the world was still imperfect. But the past had slipped into the shadows, and love of family had found its way home.
He and Clara had stopped talking three years earlier, in the thick of the pandemic. What began as concern evolved into argument. Clara believed in rules and vaccines. Daniel believed in choice, in questions that deserved answers. One thing they undeniably shared— etched deep in their DNA—was stubbornness, a need to be right that neither surrendered easily. Their chats grew sharper the more they discussed the situation, and the silence settled in and stayed. Birthdays passed. Holidays followed. Silence prevailed. Daniel replayed the argument in his mind, certain he was right. Clara did the same. Each thought suppressing the disagreement—pushing it out of daily thought—allowed life to move forward. Now, holding a Valentine’s Day card meant for lovers, Daniel felt foolish. Clara was his sister, not his lover.
Submitted By Jim Surmanek
February 2026 13
Estrella Publishing - Main Street magazine
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