Small Wonders:

I recently paid a visit to my elderly grandmother in her nursing home. She doesn’t say much anymore. She doesn’t know who I am actually, but she lets me sit with her. On her dresser is a picture from my wedding day. My new bride and I standing under an arch of flowers, beaming, radiant, young newlyweds. So young.

When I got home I pulled out my wedding vows. Though not quite as eloquent as I remember, there I found what the penguins failed to say:

I used to be able to put into words what that missing feeling was, but I can’t anymore. That is how I know what love is: Along with my breath, you have taken my words away. You make me a better human being. I promise to spend the rest of my life striving to make you proud of me, to be that person only you see, and proving to the world that I am worthy of you. Just laugh and I am the happiest man alive.

No, Hallmark is not begging me to work for them. But, somewhere in there are my feelings, as true today as they were back then. And now they are public record.

My wife is a great laugher. To put up with me she needs to be. I’m no great philosopher, but I do think that laughter is the key to a healthy relationship. If you can laugh well together through the good times and especially the bad, you’ll probably do all right.

When I err, she slaps me on the butt for encouragement.

“You’ll get ’em next time, kid. Don’t let it get you down.”

Lately I’ve needed this one a lot.

She visits the mound when she sees that I am rattled and tells me to slow down, forget the runner on second and just throw my pitch.

She shakes me off when the pitch isn’t right for the situation; when I want to bring the heat, she knows that a slow, hanging curve is more desirable.

She bunts me to second and sacrifices me to third. I could make a salacious comment about the home run, but I’ve got a little more class than that.

From the brisk nights of spring to the balmy nights of summer and the chilly nights of fall, through all the seasons of our lives, she’s my coach, my fan, my teammate. She’s my love.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.

 PATRICK CANEDAY lives and works in Burbank. He may be reached at patrickcaneday@ gmail.com.