Chantal Kreviazuk performs for an audience.
This past Wednesday marked 20 years of marriage for my wife and me. We’ve been together 25. Raised two daughters – now 18 and 16. And like most people in long-term relationships, we’ve had highs, lows, detours, and seasons where we were just trying to survive the schedule.
At the start of the week, we agreed: Let’s not do anything big this year. No pressure. No dinner plans. Just a quiet acknowledgment. And honestly, we were both fine with that. Or at least, we thought we were.
But here’s the truth I had to sit with …
That quiet “no big deal” approach wasn’t coming from peace, it was coming from exhaustion. We’ve been running so hard lately, head down, pouring ourselves into work and responsibilities, that it became easy to brush past something that really did matter. And that’s the trap, isn’t it? You give so much of yourself to everything and everyone else, that the thing you claim to value most – your relationship, your family – becomes the thing you skip.
As Marcus Aurelius said, “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do, say, and think.” It hit me. What if this was our last anniversary? Would “doing nothing” feel right?
So we changed the plan. On a whim, we booked a night away. Nothing elaborate – just a winery show in Niagara-on-the-Lake where, by chance, Chantal Kreviazuk was performing the song we danced to at our wedding (Feels Like Home). It was quiet. Real. No social posts. No validation-seeking. Just us, showing up for each other.
And I’m grateful we did. Because how do you expect to have another 20 years together if you don’t slow down long enough to acknowledge and celebrate the first 20?
Our marriage isn’t perfect. It’s full of quirks, flaws, and the kind of chaos that comes with two full lives trying to stay connected. But it’s ours. And after 25 years together, I know that most of who I’ve become, I became alongside her.
There’s enough day-to-day bullshit in life to quietly break a marriage without any one big reason.
And if I’m being honest, this is where the firefighter in me shows up – we triage where our attention goes. We’re trained to prioritize chaos, emergencies, and alarms. So if something isn’t on fire – literally or figuratively – we tell ourselves it’s “fine.” It can wait.
And when something is working, like a relationship that’s still standing, we assume it needs nothing. That’s the defect.
We forget that just because it’s not broken doesn’t mean it’s being nurtured. Not everything has to be an emergency to be a priority.
And maybe your version of this looks different. Maybe it’s not a marriage. Maybe it’s a relationship that didn’t work out, or one you’re trying to rebuild. Maybe it’s your kids, your parents, your friends, or even a part of yourself you’ve neglected.
Whatever the relationship, connection still matters.
Time doesn’t make memories – making time does. You can live alongside someone for years and barely remember the days. But when you choose to give time – not just let it pass – you create something that sticks. That’s where memories come from.
There’s someone in your life right now who’s worth the effort. Someone who’s quietly waiting for you to show up. Not perfectly. Just honestly.
Because moments don’t make themselves.
And memories only exist because you decided they were worth creating.
Kory Pearn is a career firefighter and captain; and the founder, publisher, and editor-in-chief of CRACKYL Magazine.
