Memory or creation

Did I make this one up, too?
Memory is such a fickle thing
Easily distorted
We think we remember the past
but really, we retain an outline, filled in by
our subjective daily reality
So did I make this one up?
You tell me.

An early night in June
mosquito, crickets,
earlier rain gave way to a
beautiful moon

A circle of friends
packed in tight
a fire burning filled the night
a celebration
a wedding reception
groom passed out upstairs

I survey the circle
faces lit by flame
dancing, shining sparkle eyes
tell stories and make jokes
all around is laughter
and billows of smoke

did I catch his glance
his eyes reflecting fire light
in my direction
on that dark and smoky night

or did I put that glance there
as I create my story
lovingly and painstakingly
attempt to piece together
a patchwork of truth
An honest inventory

Perhaps I'll never know
Or perhaps the point is moot
now it's just another
decoupage
for the scrapbook