"After all, the date fits the theme quite well."

I paused in mid-motion and looked at her across the table in irritation. Then I carefully took a sip of my coffee and leaned back.

"Now I'm curious. You'll have to explain that to me in more detail. Is it about the saint?", I smiled at her.

I had just gotten a little upset about the upcoming Valentine's Day. I wasn't bothered by the heart-shaped decorations in the coffee shop, or the increasing amount of schmaltzy love songs on the radio. I also didn't think it was wrong that there was a day to basically celebrate love.

What I didn't like, however, was the pressure that was increasingly less subtle: Buy something to show your love! It has to be a romantic gesture! It has to be a grand gesture! Just don't forget this day or everything will be ruined!

My goodness...

"No, no, it has nothing to do with that." She shook her head and set her own cup down. Aromas of cinnamon, cardamom and other spices wafted over to me. "Alright, don't laugh at me, okay?" She grinned and her dark eyes flashed mischievously.

"Never!" I tried to keep as serious a face as possible, but we both knew now she'd spin one of her typical, somewhat wacky but endearing theories.

Her soft, pearly laugh trickled soothingly over me. No matter how annoyed I was by something, she effortlessly managed to put me in a better mood.

"Well, let's go for it." She tilted her head in a thoughtful gesture. "Valentine's Day is on the fourteenth of February. February is the second month and fourteen divided by two makes seven."

I met her triumphant gaze expressionlessly, then raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah, I know, there' s more to it than that! And, well, it's a very personal theory, too." She nodded that her ponytail bobbed and grinned broadly again. "If I had to give love a number, it would be seven. And that's why it fits well!"

"Well, that settles it then," I giggled. It was wonderful to see her like that, eyes shining, enthusiasm radiating. We'd known each other long and well enough that she wouldn't hold my little teasing against me.

She promptly stuck her tongue out at me, but also winked, and then went on to say, "For me, there are seven forms of love." To clarify, she raised her hands and began counting off on her fingers.

"One: The love between parents and children.

Two: The love between siblings.

Three: The love between partners.

Four: The love for yourself.

Five: The love between friends.

Six: The love for an activity.

Seven: The love for everything." She shrugged her shoulders. "Call it creation, God, nature, whatever you want. Keep it more like something all-encompassing."

"Hmm, I see." I nodded. "And how did you come up with that?"

She waved off the question and slumped back in her chair. With one hand she fished for the handle of her cup, sucked in the rising vapors with relish, and blinked at me with satisfaction.

"Oh, I don't know. Experience? Observation?" She paused for a moment, but I sensed she wanted to say something more. "Basically, my classification is as arbitrary as any other. And there's overlap, too! For example... siblings and friends." With a nod, she affirmed her words. "Some describe their friends as being as close as their siblings. Or conversely, their siblings as closest friends. Not every relationship involves only one form of love. Hmm." For a moment, her features darkened. "Sometimes there's no love in a relationship at all." She shook herself slightly, then smiled back at me. "But that's not the point."

I sipped my coffee and continued to just look at her. It fascinated me how much energy she exuded when she was pursuing one of her theories, as she had just done. The warmth I felt was not coming from the slightly overheated premises, nor from the cup I was clutching with both hands.

"Pets!" Her exclamation startled me from my absorption. "Where would you classify pets?"

"Um, with friends, maybe?" I pondered, then added, "Maybe with siblings or the parent-child relationship. Depends, doesn't it? Like how old I am."

She nodded. "Yeah, I see it that way, too. That's also possibly changing." She tapped her nose with her fingertip. "Love, after all, is not something rigid that stays in one form forever. The basics, like respect, trust, caring, yes, those are always part of it somehow. But the alignment or intensity is in flux over time."

We were silent together for a while, each of us wandering in our thoughts. The quiet conversations of the other guests, the clattering of dishes and the hissing of the coffee machine in the background were only scenery.

"Getting back to Valentine's Day...", I interrupted our silence. With a look, she signaled she was listening.

"I may not like Valentine's Day very much, but love is a really important part of life. It deserves a day to be celebrated."

She nodded at first, then a skeptical expression crossed her face.

"I don't think that's enough for me. Look, there's so much love in my life, in all its variety. May it be one-sided, as in a hobby that nevertheless gives me so much. May it be romantic or platonic, complicated or simple. Wild, colorful, quiet, secret." She shook her head. "To see it all, no, to celebrate it, one day is not enough."

Her eyes flashed again as she looked at me firmly.

"I want to remember the love in my life every day. Embrace it every day."

I just nodded mutely, nothing to add. Then I toasted her with my cup.

"To the seven of love."

With a glow, she raised her cup as well: "To the seven of love."