Love conquers all: A Valentine’s Day play with a twist
A columnist's wife pens this year's declaration of love and devotion
For Valentine’s Day each year, I write my wife, Jill, something romantic. It’s my way of expressing the depth of my love for her as she battles Huntington’s disease, an inherited neurodegenerative terminal illness. Each of the columns, which often are in the form of a play, has been my gift to her, a way to capture our moments together in a creative and imaginative way.
This year, however, Jill surprised me by announcing she would write a play for me instead.
Coming from my self-proclaimed “nonromantic” wife, this was monumental. This is the woman who’s allergic to chocolate, politely declines gifts, and relies on her mother’s annual card to remember our wedding anniversary. When I told her how excited I was to read it, she smiled slyly and sauntered away.
A few days later, while we were nestled on our couch during our evening TV routine, she turned to me exasperated and said, “Why didn’t you tell me writing a play was so hard?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I explained that, for me, writing a play was easy because they’re powered by my love for her — though I admitted that for years I had studied how to be a playwright, and writing previous plays might’ve given me a slight advantage.
When I offered her an out by saying she didn’t need to continue if it was too difficult, I got the quintessential Jill response: “I’m finishing this play because it’s my gift to you.”
Then, with that disarming smile of hers, she added, “It just won’t be as good as yours.”
The finest play
The day finally came when she had finished it. As I read her words, I found myself laughing, tearing up, and then hugging her. True to form, she downplayed her achievement, insisting I shouldn’t publish it in my column here.
“Don’t subject others to the worst play ever written,” she protested. But to me, it was the finest play I’d ever read — because every word was crafted with love.
And, for the record, Jill really can’t stand listening to or saying puns. But she definitely knows how much I love them.
Here is what she wrote for me:
Scene: A packed restaurant. Jill, holding a heart-shaped card, approaches Carlos, who’s sitting in a booth in the back of the room.
Jill: (With a playful smile) Hey there (dramatic pause) my heart.
Carlos: (Looking up, grinning) Well, if it isn’t my favorite person in the world! I thought you said you were going to be late because you were stopping at the store.
Jill: (Giggling) I was, but I had a change of heart and came straight here.
Carlos: (Stands on his tippy toes to give Jill a hug. Jill is 3 inches taller than he is) That’s heart to believe, but I’m glad you’re here early. You always know how to keep me on my toes.
Jill: (Sliding into the booth) Speaking of hearts, I got you this. (She hands him the heart-shaped card.) I would’ve given you my real heart, but I couldn’t find it in my chest of drawers.
Carlos: (Opening the card) “You make my heart skip a beat.” (He looks up, touched.) Jill, you always know how to make me smile, but you didn’t have to buy me a card. I’m artery in love with you.
Jill: (Leaning in) I know that, since you wear your heart on your sleeve. But I figured it was time to remind you that, even though Huntington’s has artery broken our hearts, it doesn’t have to break us.
Carlos: (Reaching for her hand) Jill, you don’t have to carry that alone. Huntington’s is part of our lives, but we’ll face every step together. Whenever you want to taco about it, I’m always here.
Jill: (Smiling through a tear) Thank you, my love. I heart you a latte. It’s hard, but I know I can always espresso my feelings with you. And you can do the same.
Carlos: (Grinning) I promise I will always listen and never be heartless with your feelings. Now, let’s order before my stomach starts making more noise than this restaurant.
Jill: (Laughing) I’m ready as long as you promise to share the mozzarella sticks and berry pie with me.
Carlos: (Playfully) Anything for you, because I love you berry much.
(Jill rolls her eyes, which usually is a sign of her chorea, but, in this case, it was because she was definitely trying to roll her eyes.)
Carlos: (Sly grin on his face) My puns may be cheesy, but at least they come from the heart.
(They laugh as Jill puts her head on Carlos’ shoulder with a sigh of relief as he reaches for her hand in a perfect romantic moment.)
The End. (Of the play, not this column)
As I was reading Jill’s play, I was reminded that, while Huntington’s may have altered the course of our lives, it can never change the love we share. If anything, it has only made our bond stronger.
Note: Huntington’s Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Huntington’s Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Huntington’s disease.
About the Author
Karl Miran
Like Jill, I groan at most puns. However, this play was genuinely touching. Thanks for sharing!