Forty Years at the Same Diner Booth

My parents have eaten breakfast at Marge's Diner, in the back corner booth, every Saturday since their third date in 1979.

The booth has been reupholstered twice. Marge has retired, and her son runs the place. The coffee costs six times what it did. My parents still order the same thing: two eggs over easy for him, a short stack for her, and one cinnamon roll to split.

The staff call it "the Hendricks booth." Once, when a new waitress seated another couple there, a regular customer at the counter gently explained the situation, and the couple moved with a smile.

For their fortieth anniversary, the diner put a small brass plaque on the table: "Reserved for Love, Saturdays 8 a.m." My mom cried into her pancakes. My dad pretended he had something in his eye. I think it's the most romantic thing I've ever seen.