Nine years ago (really? nine?) my husband and I were not married, not dating, and had just spent hours going to and from the temple. We stopped at a Wendy's on the way home, and unknowingly ordered the same thing. To say I was having a rough weekend would be an understatement. To say I was slightly hyper would also be an understatement. He sat across from me, and opened an identical sandwich to mine.
"Spicy chicken buddies!" I exclaimed, a little overexcited for the situation. To his credit, he did not run, but instead smiled back at me.
Since I realized I loved him the next night (he'd known he loved me for a while), and we got married six months later, I often think of that moment at a key moment in the start of our relationship. (Actually the whole weekend was key, but that's another story.) So I drag him to Wendy's every year for Valentine's Day. I also make him bring the kids.
After all, it's not just him and me that started that weekend, it was our whole family (all 4 1/2 of us).
(Wouldn't this be a great place for a recent (candid or professional) family photo? I'm pretty sure the last one was taken months, possibly years ago. I should work on that.)
