I expected Valentine’s Day to be a bad day. My friends anticipated that for me too. One left a message telling me to keep my chin up, another saying she was thinking about me. I got an email Valentine’s morning saying, “Hoping you’re not sad today.”

Beyond it being the first Valentine’s Day after my divorce, another challenge was that Cavanaugh is sick with RSV so I couldn’t send him to school. Additionally, my ex-husband is out-of-town again due to a family emergency, so I haven’t had as much of a break as usual. Last week, I thought I had a kidney infection. Turned out it was just my body crying “Uncle” with the stress, a huge part of which was that I had a mental status exam last Friday for my disability review.

All indicators pointed to Valentine’s Day being the icing on the stress cake. But I wasn’t sad yesterday. I didn’t cry one time and I cry at least once on most days.

One of Cavanaugh’s RSV-infested buddies couldn’t go to school either so his parents watched Cavanaugh while I went for an acupuncture appointment. It was rejuvenating–a perfect Valentine’s treat. When I returned, we all ate cake, chocolate mousse really, because my friend’s birthday (and my mom’s) falls on Valentine’s Day.

I got Valentines in the mail from my friend Kristin who dressed her daughter up as a sheep. The photo caption read, “Will EWE be my Valentine?” Her son was in an owl costume and that caption asked, “Whoooooo will be my Valentine?” Those went on my mantle along with a picture Cavanaugh made at school covered in tissue-paper hearts, and the heart mailbox filled with candy from a classmate.

While we were grocery shopping in the afternoon, Cavanaugh started asking me, “May I be your Valentine?” I’ve truly never had a better offer.

I asked, “Will you be my Valentine?”

“Of course,” he answered.

Here, I thought I was going to be my own Valentine and love came through the mail, the phone, via the internet. It was displayed on my mantle and whispered to me by a four-year old.

It doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel my heart being pierced a little when I saw bouquets of white roses in the grocery the other day. But, as has been happening pretty often lately, I was able to step out of the sadness and reason with myself a little.

I could buy myself roses if I wanted them. I don’t want them. At least not now, not white roses or chocolate covered strawberries, not anything that triggers grief over what was good about my marriage, what I still miss.

Still, I love Valentine’s Day, and flowers, and chocolate. So Cavanaugh and I bought bunches of daisies and sunflowers that I arranged when we got home. After he went to sleep I had a friend over who is getting divorced. We hung out in my back yard, the missing marriage corner if you feng shui my house, and looked at the waxing moon. We ate buttered popcorn with nutritional yeast on it. We stayed up past my bedtime.

It helped me remember that I continue to be less lonely, less angry–actually, happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Even on Valentine’s Day.

Here’s hoping you had a good one too.