Almost a dozen years ago, I did a study abroad program in Spain. The program I was in was a full immersion style, which kept the group small. There were probably 35 of us total. What this created was a close-knit family in a foreign country speaking a foreign language. And as such, we got to know each other very well.
One of my favorite people that I met during this semester was Emily. She was this sweet, bubbly young woman. It was nearly impossible to dislike her, though her roommate pushed the limits of that. But Emily was just such a beacon of goodness, even in the face of adversity.
Emily had this dress that she wore fairly frequently that had a print with multicolored bunnies on it. Whenever she wore this dress, it absolutely made her day. Just because she was a fan of rabbits in general. (This would play into one of my favorite memories from that semester, but that’s a story for another time.)
The memory I want to talk about today, however, is another day that Emily was extra happy. It was a gray, rainy day. I remember being especially tired and just not feeling it. And then Emily walked in and she was on Cloud Nine. When asked why she was so happy that day, her response was that it was new toothbrush day. In accordance with the 3-month rule recommended by her dentist, she had thrown out her old toothbrush and opened a new one that morning. And that made her inexplicably happy.
It’s something so small. A toothbrush, something most of us probably don’t give much thought about during the course of our day. And yet, to her it was something that could turn around an otherwise bad day. But the even more amazing thing is how it has impacted my life.
I lost touch with Emily. We’re still technically Facebook friends, but she hasn’t posted anything in years. I haven’t had direct contact in even longer. But just last week, I opened a new toothbrush. And it made me think of her. I remembered her joy at a new toothbrush and that made me happy. The rest of the day, I was in a better mood than I’d been in upon waking. And it had nothing to do with the toothbrush itself.
So often in this life we keep our quirks quiet. In an effort to avoid judgment or bullying, we hide our true selves. We don’t tell people that the reason we’re smiling is because we broke out a new toothbrush that morning or that our outfit has rabbits on it. And that’s a shame. Because we’re missing out on two opportunities: 1. To live as our best selves and 2. To make a difference on someone else’s life.
I’m sure Emily didn’t set out to change the way I think about new toothbrushes that day. I doubt she even remembers that day in particular, it was otherwise uneventful. And yet, it’s something I think about four times a year, or so. It’s had a lasting impact on my life, not only in making those days better but in how I think about things in general.
Here’s my commandment to you! Be more like Emily. Share your weirdness, quirks, or small joys with people around you. Sure, some may think you’re odd, but more than you might think will find it endearing. To be yourself in this world is an act of rebellion. And I challenge you to fight the powers that be that tell you that being happy about a new toothbrush is wrong.
