My first Valentine's Day card was given to my mother. I was enamored of her and followed her everywhere I was allowed to, but since she was an operating room nurse in a large hospital, there were times I simply wasn't allowed to be with her.
I didn't understand why, or have any concept of work or money or responsibility-or even why I felt sad or frustrated outside her presence. Most people were good to me, though, and I became interested in the myriad of new things and people around me, which helped with the brief separations.
As I grew a little older and started expressing some independence, I found great delight in my little explorations, freedoms, and the things I was learning in school, and dear mom was temporarily forgotten-until someone's scolding, or an accident, or a fearful event pulled her immediately to mind and I would get to her as fast as I could for comfort and support. She was my protector and my security base as I began to explore the world around me. At some point, I don't remember when, the Valentine's Day cards to her stopped.