Last weekend, my spouse and I celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary, but whether we actually “celebrated” it or not depends on the story we tell.
One version of the story is that the kids had orchestra rehearsals all day and the house needed cleaning and I had to teach in the evening, so we didn’t end up doing anything for our anniversary.
Another version of the story is that my spouse ordered vegan chocolates and other treats from a bean-to-bar chocolatier in the town where he and I spent our honeymoon, and although our day was filled with obligations, we got together before bedtime and shared chocolates and reminiscences of our early married days with our children.
One story is ho-hum. The other is romantic. Both are true. But stories have power, and I suspect that the difference is in which one we choose to repeat to ourselves.