I’m happy to say that our big table in the dining room has gone unused for most of the summer. In June we bought a bigger table for our covered deck, so the moveable feasts have taken place in the warm sanctuary of our patio. I have begun something called Monday at Mom’s. I text everyone the menu, and they send me a head count.

Our sons are grown, and neither one has made me a grandmother yet as far as I know. For a while they were in the stage that I call “the terrible two-o’s,” when they had turned 20, but had not reached maturity. But now that they are in their mid-twenties, they are really interesting young men.

Our son John is a talented guitar player, but he had episodes of hearing loss through the years. We bought him musician’s earplugs that allow the wearer to hear everything while protecting from high decibels. Of course, he lost them right away and had to settle for foam earplugs to protect him from his own ear-splitting, teenage guitar riffs. But he still struggles.

In the last few weeks, his hearing was almost gone. He went to a doctor (both of my kids finally have health insurance!), and is scheduled to see a specialist. He called me the next morning, happier than he has been in a long, long time.

“Mom! I can hear everything! I forgot that cellophane and plastic bags make a rustling sound. I had forgotten the sound you hear when you put your head on a pillow!” He was so excited that he was waxing poetic. I said, “Imagine how good your music will be now that you can hear it!” I tried to warn him about protecting his hearing, but he’s finally listening. As the old song says, “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone…?”

Meanwhile, our son Joe has become such an avid reader that none of us can keep up. When we gather at the Big Table, we discuss books and music. He calls me occasionally to ask about some archaic or obscure phrase, but for the most part, he has learned to derive meaning from context. He doesn’t know it, but he’s delving into literary criticism. These are moments of pure bliss for the English major Mom.

Of course I still want the best for my kids, but I had to surrender the plan that I had for their lives: for health, prosperity, education, and picket fences. I set them free from my rigid vision and expectations, and they are managing just fine. Meanwhile, we will continue to gather on Mondays whenever we can to watch life unfold.

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 31 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.