My friend tells me the other night she removed all the save the dates from her fridge
one by one, she took them down and set them to the side, stowed away in a drawer to the left of the sink where they fit just perfectly so
all that was left, was her grocery list and a picture of her family and friends to which she tells me matter most, of course
beginning to justify herself, she attempts to convince me how much she loves each couple as they are her friends after all, but she falters
when she tells me she cannot reach for eggs without being reminded of such happiness while simultaneously being forced to question her own, I am struck with the familiarity of such a simple action turned meaningful and I am left wondering
how many save the dates can a refrigerator hold, and how many magnets does it take to hold up a piece of cardstock as well as the weight of the disappointment when you hang another picture that you do not see yourself in?
I tell her there is no need for more magnets or her justification because there are others like her, like me, for example
I, too, cannot open my own fridge, cannot reach for the
milk
eggs
cream
butter
without being reminded of my own
sadness
lack of companionship
loneliness
fear of the unknown
surrounding a date that might never be mine to claim.
I stand tall when I get home, and like my friend, one by one take down the faces of smiling people whom I am happy to celebrate soon
in the future, though, I think I will be happy with relief to reach in for water or soup or my dairy free yogurt without another reminder that I do not yet have a date that belongs just to me.