Love, Dove

Got some good news for you, friends; some very good news, indeed. Today, the 18th of July, is both national ice cream day and national caviar day. I don't suggest combining the two--probably didn't need to tell you that. But I do suggest indulging in both today. Why? Well if you're really the kind of person who needs more than a national directive to treat yourself to decadence, I've got you covered. Get you some ice cream, get you some caviar, and enjoy them both in honor of me!

Now that's indulgent, you're probably thinking. Who is this girl, to suggest we spend our hard-earned monies and eschew our calorie counts in her honor? What does she think this is--her birthday?

Nope. That's tomorrow. And if you want to celebrate me then, too, I say go for it!

But trust me; today's the better day for celebrating. Mostly because of the ice cream and caviar, but a little bit because today marks the one year anniversary of my divorce.

Yep. I hear you. It's a little dark to celebrate your own anniversary, and downright ugly to celebrate someone else's. But it wasn't my idea. Allow me to explain.

One Year Ago Today...

They all know. We're not really talking about it, and I've got that smile plastered firmly on my face--but they know. As we walk out of class, Rosalyn gives me a hug that reminds me I'm not OK, and Kyle slips a Dove chocolate into my sweaty palm.

We all walk to the atrium together, but split up when TJ approaches. Nobody has anything to say to him. But because nothing much ever really changes, TJ has plenty to say. He chats amicably with me as we head up to Barbara's office to make the phone call.

We didn't have to make the call together, but for some reason (his reason) that's what we're doing. So we're camped out in my favorite professor's office to call the judge and finalize our divorce, and he just won't shut up. Not the judge. TJ. As we're sitting on hold with the courthouse, he just talks and talks, telling me all about his life and what he's up to and what's going on with work and how he doesn't need his meds anymore. 

I want to tell him the whole point of this phone call is that I don't have to care about any of this, but that's not me. Instead, I suggest he continue to pursue treatment. He gives me that absurd TJ smile, and the judge rings in.

As he reads through his documents, prompting us to respond occasionally, I unwrap my Dove chocolate and lean back in my chair to read the coveted message. And because chocolate knows things even psychologists don't, Dove told me this:

  

I'd be lying if I told you I achieved enjoyment at that moment--at least nothing beyond the smug satisfaction of showing the wrapper to TJ and giving him my own fake smile. What I really did was leave the office after the call, walk down the hall with him, refuse his attempt at a hug (WHAT THE HELL?), and pathetically cry on the shoulder of a man who had no real reason to comfort me, but did anyway.

One year ago today wasn't my best day. And yet, it was. On a day specifically designed to remind you you aren't loved, I felt loved. Loved by my friends, by my family, by at least one person who most assuredly didn't even like me. And Dove.

Dove told me to enjoy the moment. So that's what I did. What I'm doing. What I'm suggesting you do! Today is a day for ice cream and caviar and love. Today is a day to enjoy the moment, even if the moment cuts like a knife.

I can't promise you the moment you're having right now is one worthy of enjoyment, but maybe go ahead and do it anyway. That simple idea kicked off a year full of moments to enjoy--the best of my life thus far. And if you can't see yourself enjoying this exact moment, put some caviar on it. Everything looks better with caviar. And if you're unwilling to admit caviar is maybe kind of gross, just chase it with a big bite of ice cream.