Celebrating

I believe in celebrating every. damn. thing.

When I had cancer, I threw myself a last day of chemo party. I baked and made cheese platters and got tubs of drinks, and about 20 people crowded the hospital room - we got shushed by nurses, who reminded us that there were sick people around, and I giggled because, well, that was funny. I was bald, fat, and miserable as the poison dripped into my veins, but we counted down from ten for the last drops, and I imagined the final cancerous cell in my body exploding into oblivion. My friends clapped, and I thanked my friends for joining me for this milestone... never mind that I had radiation right around the corner, the day deserved a celebration and I made it happen.

Today is Valentine's Day and, like most of the Valentine's Days of my life, I'm single. But I'm still celebrating. I read my students a poem about Valentine's Day:
https://poets.org/poem/will-you?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Poem-a-Day%20%20March%2013%202019&utm_content=Poem-a-Day%20%20March%2013%202019%20CID_9b0938fa8fc6b7fbcded7b494a4e8d9f&utm_source=Email%20from%20Campaign%20Monitor&utm_term=Will%20You
Will You? by Carrie Fountain, and I thought about all of the elementary school celebrations. I thought about my acquired distaste for glitter in my house (days later, I'd find bits stuck to my face or my elbow, and I swear the tiny sparkling pieces never, ever left the sofa entirely) and how I refused, after one particularily messy arts and crafts session with six year olds, to never let glitter enter my doors again.

This was said with seriousness, but also with merriment.

I was the mom that hosted Valentine's Day parties with home made sugar cookies and vats of pink and purple icing to decorate them with. I was the mom who invited a half dozen kids over, covered the table with a plastic tablecloth (covered in hearts, of course) and let the kids go nuts decorating their cookies and filling up on sweets. The moms clustered around, with glasses of wine, cheese platters, and dark chocolates.

When I was married, I wore the red dress and the highest heels on Valentine's. I made the reservation at the romantic restaurant.

And then, when money was tighter and the marriage was weaker, I made the fancy dinner and set a table for three at home.

I celebrate. I celebrate big things, and I celebrate little things. And yes, despite it all, I still celebrate Valentine's Day.

This year in particular, I'm not feeling it. The violence I encountered is still within me; I've chosen not to date since last summer; I'm a single mom. I am just not feeling it.

But I'm trying.

I ordered my kid a couple of small items from her favorite clothing store. I read my students a poem, and created space for them to make notes for each other on pink and lavender paper (trust me, a rather unexpected moment in AP Language). I am celebrating small this year, but I am still celebrating.

Life is too short not to celebrate whenever there is the tiniest opportunity to do so.

And even though I'm still not feeling it - good things have come from this. Students wrote me Valentine's cards. My daughter is appreciative of her surprise gift (I don't always buy a "real" gift for Valentine's, it's usually something like socks with hearts on them). My classroom felt festive today, on a day when I'm still having trouble just getting through.

I avoided the cake in the staff room - a victory. A student gave me chocolates; another student gave me a chocolate heart from Fran's (ooohhhh fancy!). I felt loved.

I am proud of my celebration of this holiday of love. One day, it'd be really fantastic to celebrate it with a real man - a man who represented the present and the future; a man different than the men in my past.

But today is a victory, because I found a way to celebrate even when I'm hurting, and for now, that's a pretty big win.