Chic-Fil-A: The small meal with a million-dollar value

On December 18, 2015, my husband Michael and I went to a local mall. He had just received the money he was going to use for Christmas, so we decided to go shopping.

The first stop was Zales Jewelers, where he purchased me a diamond necklace and matching earrings. He wanted to get me the matching ring, but they were out of stock. He said he would get it later, but his health became an issue.

On this day, we had been together 39 years and married for 34. We were walking hand in hand through the mall, and after we finished shopping, he asked if I would like to eat at Chick-fil-A.

This was not a five-star restaurant, and the combined total of our meals were about $10.00. This particular afternoon lunch was worth its weight in gold and became more precious over time because this was the last time we would ever eat out together.

He had a chicken sandwich combo, and I ordered waffle fries and a drink. For couples who dine out regularly, a lunch at Chick-fil-A probably seems trivial. This happened to be my husband's favorite spot and was not a big deal, but over time, the value of that $10.00 meal and that hour spent in the mall began to grow.

After being on COVID lockdown in 2020, a trip to the mall and eating at Chick-fil-A felt like a well-deserved outing. Just having the time to sit across from one another and enjoy a meal was a blessing.

Couples who began dating when we did were deceased, or someone was left a widow or widower. Good friends whose 1978 wedding we were a bridesmaid and usher had both passed away within a few years of each other. They had been in their early 50s.

It seemed like only yesterday we were going to the movies with them and practicing for the wedding, and now they were gone. This was a sobering reality, and I gave thanks every day that we were still alive and together.

I had begun noticing more people in our age range riding motorized carts in the grocery store, or using walkers, wheelchairs, or canes. Our generation was aging, and some were dying. I was grateful to have the activity of my limbs and also to have my spouse with me.

Walking through the mall together, that day, holding hands, seemed like a miracle. Tomorrow is not promised, so I decided to be thankful for the small things each day.

Over the next six years, my husband's health became a challenge. Instead of going out to eat, to the beach, or on a vacation, we spent time together at doctors' appointments, therapy sessions, clinic visits, and hospital stays. I valued each one because it meant he was still with me.

When I slept in a chair in his hospital room for 16 nights, I thought of how I valued the Chick-fil-A meal and pretended we were on a private getaway.

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My husband died on March 7, 2021, and today, five years later, the meal from Chick-fil-A has increased in value. I understand the phrases Don't sweat the small stuff," "Simple pleasures are the best," and "Don't despise small beginnings."

If we had gone to a five-star restaurant or to an exotic location to eat, the sentiment would not have been the same because it would have been about the money spent.

If anyone asked me today to put a value on that lunch date, I would say it was priceless. Still, I will fondly remember that brief moment in time and the $10.00 spent as a million-dollar meal.