I recently read a book called "The Versions of Us," which showed three different ways a potential first meeting between a couple could have played out. In the first, the couple meet in college, fall in love, and start a family. In the second, they do not meet until later on and only start a relationship in old age. In the third, their college relationship ended prematurely and is only rekindled later on, after they had both married once. The book tracks their lives from college to old age in each version, with several points when the timelines collide at the same event, showing the stark contrast between how each version of the couple turned out.

As I was reading the book, I kept trying figure out my favorite version. At first, I thought that the first version was the ideal one, the one that should have happened. In fact, I almost wrote in the first sentence “the couple meet in college like they are supposed to.” Then I realized that I was missing the point. Nothing should be labelled ‘should have happened’ or ‘supposed to happen.’ Life doesn’t care about that. Life just is. All of the versions had their highs and lows. At times, the first version seems the least ideal; at times, it seems like the most.

Comparing how different the versions were, it was weird to wrap my mind around the fact that one small thing could change so much. In each version, everything changed: how successful they were in their careers, the kind of children they had, their relationships with their parents and others — the list goes on. It made me second guess a lot of the decisions I've made: what would my life have been like if I had done A instead of B?

The characters contemplate that as well. It is almost an inside joke when they do, because the reader does know what it is like: that’s what happens in a different version of the story. The reader, able to see all universes at once, can say: well, it makes you happier in some regards, but sadder in others. Doing that gets you further in your career; doing that distances you from your spouse.

However, in life, we don't come with omnipotent advisors — and neither do the characters. Eventually, they decide that there is no point in dwelling on what might have been, when there is nothing they could do about it. Life, after all, is what they make of it. Thus, they accept life as it is presented to them and carry on.

That’s a wisdom a lot of us could learn from. Many of us are too busy dwelling on mistakes made in the past--regrets or missed chances--that we miss even more opportunities presented to us in the present. Sometimes, the most important thing is to accept that things in the past are beyond our control, and make the most of life as it is. We might never know what life in that alternate reality is like, but why should it matter, if we’re already enjoying the life we have?

Despite all the differences, some details remained consistent throughout the versions. Their personalities remained the same, so the reader was easily able to apply what they learned about the character in version one to the character in version two or three. Their ambitions and yearnings remained the same: he wanted to be an artist like his father; she wanted to be a writer. In each version, these goals are achieved with varying degrees of success, depending on unexpected circumstances that thwart them or sheer luck that helps them.

This shows that no matter what happens, we are still the same people at our cores. Our deepest desires are still true to us. Success is whimsical and can depend on things that may be out of our power, so just because things don’t play out exactly the way we want doesn’t mean we are failing. There are no do-overs, no exit doors to alternate realities, so dwelling on whether this version of our lives is the best version is moot. What’s best is all subjective, anyway. So I challenge you: let’s declare these versions of us the best versions, and live life accordingly.