She slid the maple side table out into the living room, covered it with a red tablecloth and set the table. The table was arranged beautifully and deliberately like a flower arrangement. Small clear votives embraced tiny tea lights and the ornately cracked glasses containing the blood-colored wine stood proudly boasting in the firelight. Steak cooked perfectly, salad, potatoes. Appetizers were served with wine before the meal and champagne with homemade chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert. Music floated through the room adding to the mood. And a card that made me cry, sob actually. Why? Because every day is like this with her. Every day is Valentine’s Day.