Every January or so I do this. When it's time to decorate for Valentine's Day in the classroom, I open the ol' blue box simply labeled "Valentine's". And inside, sometimes buried, sometimes near the top, depending on how I
Grandmother Romberg was Vaughn's grandmother, actually, but I claimed her as mine. Everyone wanted to be hers.
I remember when she was making these adorable, definitely granny-chic heart mobiles. She noticed me admiring her work (it might have been a little obvious I WANTED one like crazy) and the next time I was visiting, she had my own special mobile packaged up just like only Grandmother could do (and pull off).
I completely adore this part. My name in her handwriting.
Inside a previously-used, sorta ratty-looking plastic bag (she was green before her time), she had placed the July, 1998 issue of Reader's Digest, with the individual hearts tucked in and out of the different pages. A perfect way to keep it from getting tangled.
She died later that year.
So I hang it. And really love, love, love it. And remember her love for me.
And after Valentine's Day, I pack it back up, just as it was so many years ago...between the pages, inside the ratty bag, with my handwritten name on top. To be surprised by her love again the next time I unpack that box.