Today is my 16th wedding anniversary.

My husband is picking up dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, and we will eat at a set table in the dining room that we hardly use.

The set table, the salmon that I didn’t have to cook, the evening to celebrate and to reminisce all we have done together.

These are the times I start romancing the thought of drinking alcohol.

Fantasy:

>> Wouldn’t it be nice to have a couple of cocktails before dinner?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to share a really nice bottle of wine with our meal?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to have a champagne toast in the pretty flutes we never use?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to sit on the deck tonight and have a nightcap, just the two of us?

Reality:

>> Wouldn’t it be nice to get so drunk I don’t remember eating?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to drink so much that I remind my husband how passive aggressive he is at the dinner table?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to start slurring in front of my kids to the point they are worried about me?
>> Wouldn’t it be nice to insist on staying on the deck to drink more after my husband is done and ready to go to bed?

Tonight I will make myself a beautiful mocktail or two and put them in a fancy glass. I will be present and aware of all of the wonderful that is right here, right now—no need to make it better.

I will enjoy and be able to taste every bite of my dinner that I am looking forward to. I will share stories with my kids about all of the things their father and I have done and accomplished. I will toast to 16 years of messy growth together.

I will go to bed tonight thankful that I did not drink. I will go to bed stronger for having made it through another big day without booze. I will go to bed knowing I will have absolutely nothing to regret in the morning.

I will wake up in the morning and love myself again.