I wish I could buy a Valentine’s Day card for the woman I loved more than anyone else in the world. My mom was my best friend from day one. After my sister was born, the doctors warned her it would be dangerous to have another child. I’m glad she ignored them, since her next baby, two years later, was me. A photo shows her cradling me in her arms with me gazing up at her, as if to say, “So this is what love looks like.” 

As a toddler, I trailed her around the house, while she vacuumed, asking “Do you love me?” She assured me she did, and then I switched to a new mantra: “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”  

In my eyes, she could do everything. She played the piano by ear and could knit sweaters and mittens for her girls. Somehow, she managed to keep an immaculate house and cook wonderful meals, while also teaching elementary school. She could even decipher my high school algebra problems. 

On Saturdays, she took my sister and me to downtown Miami to shop for bargains, followed by a delicious lunch of corn dogs and milk shakes. Our favorite activity was going to the beach and bobbing in the water for hours, while my dad sat on the shore, watching for sharks.  

In my teen years, I was chubby and shy and prone to have crushes on boys who were out of my league. Still, my mom told me stories about her own teen years when she had been a wallflower at dances. She assured me God would send me a wonderful man someday, and she was right.  

On my breaks from college, she made sure the cookie jar was filled with her homemade biscotti. When she gave me chocolates, I begged her to hide them, so I wouldn’t eat them all at once. This tradition followed me into marriage, when my husband became adept at hiding chocolates until the day came when I was in dire need of sweets.  

When my break was over, I would eagerly hop into my old Toyota and head back to college. She was tearful, as she handed me a lunch bag filled with treats and then walked me outside. If I close my eyes, I can still see her standing in the driveway, waving until the car was out of sight.  

She wanted me to move back home after graduation, but I had grown accustomed to my own version of a grown-up lifestyle, which included partying, staying out late and falling in love with the wrong men. She accepted my decision graciously, but kept an extra, fully furnished room for me in the condo, in case I changed my mind.  

If I could replay the tape of my life, I would return home after graduation and move into that furnished room. I would cherish every moment of our time together, driving her to the beach in the afternoons and bobbing for hours in the water with her. You see, I didn’t know it then, but our time together was running out. Somehow, I thought she would be around forever, but I was only 29 when I lost my best friend.  

It’s true what they say about love. It really is eternal. I will never forget the sound of her voice on the phone or the way she brightened when she saw me. She taught me what love looks like, and she will be my favorite Valentine forever.