2001-08-16 - 1:41 a.m.

It�s the first time the six of us have eaten together in a long time, and it could be the last. Or at least the last dinner as a single family unit, with none of us kids gone off to start our own family, as Mom reminds us. The next time we eat together, Kevin will be married.

We don�t stop long to savor the moment, though. We don�t reflect back on dinners past, when Kevin would blather on about school, or Dad would recount his dilemmas at work, or Mom would pass off the rest of her meal onto Mark. We don�t think how this family, like so many others, has been defined by dinners, the one time we were all together and actually talked, whether we wanted to or not. We just pass the food around and shovel it down.

"Excellent as usual," I say.

"Can you pass that corn thing over here?" Mark asks.

Just another summer night on the deck, is all. Another meal, another step, another page in the history of our lives.

�All right, let�s eat up quick, we�ve got to get to the dancing,� Mom announces.

I say we shouldn�t rush it, this is the last family meal, right, but we�re almost through anyway, and Kevin has places to be. He gets up and throws the Willie Nelson CD into the player. If we can�t appreciate our last meal, at least we can enjoy this last dance.

We get busy right there on the deck, practicing the waltz. There�s only room for about two couples, so us four guys switch off with Mom and Liz, sometimes dancing with an invisible partner in the corner, one, two-three, four, five, six-seven, eight. We step on each other�s feet, we bump each other in the sides, but that�s okay, we�re family.

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