Twenty Years of Thursday Lunches

My three college roommates and I have had lunch together every Thursday for twenty years. Same Italian place, same booth by the window, same waiter, Vito, until he retired last year.

We've celebrated new jobs, new babies, new houses and new haircuts at that table. We've argued about books, politics and whether olive oil goes on everything (it does). We've laughed so loud the manager came over twice.

This spring, on our twentieth anniversary, the chef added a dish to the menu called "Thursday Girls' Rigatoni," which is just the exact order we've been placing for two decades. Vito came out of retirement for the day to serve it to us.

We cried into our pasta. Then we ordered tiramisu, as always, four spoons, one plate. Same time next week.