BEE Careful: Love Is in the Air

Valentine’s Day makes me smile.

Not because I believe February 14th holds some mystical claim on love.

But because love — real love — is far more interesting than a holiday.

This year, I am spending Valentine’s Day in a chapter I didn’t expect to last this long.

My solo chapter.

And here’s the truth:

It is bringing me more peace… and more happiness… than I ever imagined it could.

Do I long for someone to kiss?

To reach for my hand across a table?

To wrap his arm around me while we wander foreign streets at night?

Of course I do.

I am human. I am a woman. I am warm-blooded, romantic, and very much alive.

But does the idea of going out and dating — of offering my time (which I value more now than ever) — feel appealing right now?

Not at all.

Dating feels like work.

And so often, when something feels like work, people either settle for easy… or for infatuation.

I will not do either.

I will not compromise.

I will not date for the sake of dating.

And I will not rush my heart because a calendar suggests I should.

On Holidays and Real Love

I’ve never needed a designated day to love well.

Valentine’s Day feels over-commercialized and a little silly to me. So does much of Christmas for adults. I love Easter morning for children. I love Halloween because it’s playful and doesn’t require presents. I love gratitude — but I don’t need one Thursday in November to practice it.

I am not cynical.

I am generous.

I love giving gifts unexpectedly.

I love writing meaningful words on ordinary days.

I love surprising someone just because I care.

The only Valentine that truly melts me?

Watching my sweet granddaughter make paper hearts for her little friends… and bringing me her artwork as if it were priceless treasure.

That is love.

Ten Months Ago…

When I planned my trip to Italy ten months ago, I was still in an on-again, off-again relationship.

There was a part of me that imagined he might join me.

Even after August — when it ended completely — there were fleeting thoughts that perhaps I would meet someone new. That maybe someone special would step into my life and join this adventure.

But I never reached the place where I was ready to open my heart again.

And I wasn’t willing to risk this trip.

I wasn’t willing to cancel Rome or Florence or Venice — or the Amalfi coastline in Sorrento — because I rearranged myself for someone else.

So here I am.

Two weeks from boarding a plane.

Alone.

Out loud.

Unhidden.

In a Few Weeks I Will…

Walk through the Vatican Museums and stand beneath the Sistine Chapel ceiling, craning my neck, humbled by beauty that has endured centuries.

Climb the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, breathless — not just from the steps — but from gratitude.

Stand inside the Colosseum, where strength and survival echo through ancient stone.

Wander through the Roman Forum and imagine what once was.

Watch the sun rise over the Trevi Fountain, toss a coin, and smile at possibility.

Sit near the Pantheon, just steps from where I’m staying, and sip espresso as if I belong there.

In Florence, I will stand before David in the Accademia and feel the power of marble carved into something unapologetically magnificent.

I’ll drift through the Uffizi, surrounded by centuries of longing, devotion, and art born of passion.

I’ll climb Brunelleschi’s dome at the Duomo, lungs burning, heart open.

In Sorrento, I will stand where the cliffs meet the sea and look out over the Amalfi Coast — that dramatic sweep of blue water and lemon-scented air — and feel small in the most intoxicating way.

In Venice, I will wander slowly — no rushing — through narrow passages and over quiet bridges.

I’ll step into Doge’s Palace, climb the terraces of St. Mark’s Basilica, and lose myself in the Peggy Guggenheim Collection.

And I will experience all of it alone.

But not lonely.

Love, Out Loud

There was a time when being hidden publicly took a toll on me.

Being blocked.

Being unseen.

Being kept quiet.

It chipped away at my trust — not just in someone else, but in love itself.

I am still healing from that.

And that is okay.

Right now, protecting my heart is not fear.

It is wisdom.

Do I miss partnership? Yes.

Do I miss the heat of a hand at the small of my back or the nape of my neck? The quiet intimacy of shared glances? Absolutely.

Enough to settle? Never.

When I am ready, I will know.

Or perhaps the right man will know — and pursue me boldly, proudly, and out loud.

Until then, I choose this:

Peace.

Freedom.

Adventure.

And a romance with my own life that does not need permission.

🐝BEE Careful

Love is in the air.

Not the commercial kind.

The expansive kind.

The sensual kind that comes from standing on an Italian balcony with wind in your hair.

The sacred kind that comes from choosing yourself.

The patient kind that says, “I would love to share this someday… but I will not shrink while I wait.”

This Valentine’s Day, I am not lacking.

I am becoming.

And there is something undeniably romantic about a woman who is whole — and knows it.

Honey Note:

If you ever find yourself in a season that lasts longer than you expected, do not mistake peace for absence. Sometimes the most profound love story you will live is the one where you choose yourself first — and trust that the right man will meet you there, not hide you there.

With love — out loud and unapologetically,

Honey🍯(MaryNell)

PS: If you see a blonde woman climbing domes alone in Italy in March, gazing at the Amalfi Coast with wind in her hair and a spark in her eyes — that’s me. Fully alive. 🐝❤️