Nine years ago today Emily and I did something that at the time seemed foolhardy: we told each other, "I love you," for the very first time.
I know you must be asking, why was that such a foolish thing to do? Because Emily was only thee days from entering the MTC, to prepare for eighteen months as a missionary in Venezuela. Any of you who have been missionaries, or who have at once time "waited," for a missionary will recognize this as a classic blunder. Every mission is chock full of missionaries who suddenly met their soul-mate just before they left. How many of these did you know? How many had received a "Dear John," or "Dear Jane" before they returned home?
A couple of days before this exchange, Emily and I had taken a short day trip from Salt Lake to Manti to attend the temple together. Sure, we could have just gone to the Salt Lake temple, or Jordan River, or Bountiful, or Provo, or. . . you get the idea. But, I think we both liked the idea of just spending the whole day just being with each other, whether in the car, in the temple, or in the AMAZING malt shop in Ephraim Utah.
The picture you see above was taken in the parking lot of the temple that day. This picture hangs in our living room, and when visitors ask we tell them, without any exaggeration, that that's the day we fell in love.
Here's the truth: we did fall in love that day. The blunder was not, as it turns out, that I told Emily I loved her before she left the country, it was waiting even two more days to tell her how much she meant to me. I have been loving her more every day for the last nine years, but I would give anything to go back and tell her in that first moment in Manti, to have had two more days knowing the joy of her love.
