February 14th: Valentine's Day. Our house smells like a preheated oven, meat browning on the stove. Our kitchen counter is covered in ingredients and metallic aluminum foil, Mom’s makeshift heart mold.

February 14th, 2007: Matthew and I leap off the bus from Richmond School with our DIY tissue candy boxes. Mom waits for us by the garage, equipped with hugs. We throw our backpacks on the couch and Matthew trades his Kit Kats for my Reese's. Mom tells us not to ¨spoil our dinner¨ as she presses the ground beef into the tinfoil.

February 14, 2009: Mom helps me spread glitter on my box, having more time to help since Matthew is too old to bring in candy. While I finish bedazzling my box, she measures and mixes and mashes the meatloaf for that evening's dinner.

February 14, 2012: I get on the bus and squeeze past annoying kids with their candy boxes. I am a middle schooler now, too old for trading candy. For dinner, Matthew and I douse Mom's dry heart-loaf with ketchup.

February 14, 2015: Matthew drives us to school and I don't realize it's Valentine's Day until my teacher gives us Tootsie Rolls. I don’t eat them. The bell rings and I rush to the gym for volleyball practice. Two hours later,  Mom picks me up and drops me off at my club practice. I eat an apple and peanut butter, the meatloaf waiting patiently in the fridge.

February 14, 2019: I am a senior and Matthew is a freshman in college, the rolls reversing. He eats off a lunch tray in the Oshkosh Commons and I make avocado salads before work. Mom and Dad travel across the country during the week, neither of them home for Valentines Day. The heart-loaf ingredients remaining untouched.