Years ago, I used to listen to my two younger boys, yelling and screaming outside near our
wonderful, magical house, called Heathfield. The sounds scraped on my nerves like chalk on
a blackboard. There was no peace to be had with that cacophony of escalating sounds
filtered only slightly by the stucco walls of our house. My heart sank, knowing I must go out
there to check. I had to see whether they were just playing or actually drawing blood in their
rough games. Even then, I knew it was temporary because children grow up so fast. Our first
three children were already off at high school and though they were teenagers, they were not
so noisy. Five children cause some wear and tear to one’s patience.

Sometimes, on Saturday mornings, I would sit with my two youngest little boys on a large couch, peacefully watching Saturday cartoons on TV. That couch had white painted wooden trim and wicker sides, and it was upholstered in a dark blue material. Robert would sit on one side of me and Murdoch on the other, wearing their pajamas. I wore one of my many long, pastel, sheer, nylon nightgowns with matching peignoir and high-heeled satin bedroom slippers. An arm around each little boy and perhaps a dog or two on our laps made for peaceful snuggles. It was pure bliss, for me, their mother.

The scent and feel of their warm little bodies, sometimes sweaty heads, dirty bare feet, lingers in my memory. These are among my happiest memories. There were many things I could/should have been doing, but I knew this was a fleeting moment. It could not last. So, I enjoyed many Saturday mornings like that when they were still young enough to want to cuddle.

Intellectually, I knew they were just little boys. They were growing every day. One day, they would be gone, living the lives of adults and having their own families. But that seemed awfully far into the future on days when they were playing/fighting so loudly. How much endurance did I have? At that moment, I just wanted it to stop. “PLEASE, Stop making that racket!” I would shout out of the window at them, but they were too interested in their play to
pay attention to me. The memory is brilliantly, indelibly imprinted on my brain. It is easy to summon that memory, because even as it happened, I knew it was transitory. It was almost like being in two alternate realities at the same time. It was so stressful to hear those yells and shouts of pain. Yet, I knew it was going to go by in the blink of an eye. I knew I would miss this
time once it was over.

Of course, I could have no idea of the actual trajectory of their lives. But now, more than 40 years later, it is all clear to me because it happened all in good time. Over the next few years, the boys grew into teenagers, got taller; their voices changed, and in Robert’s case, he could grow a beard in three weeks’ time. We laughed at Murdoch in those days because he was not as hirsute as his brother. Now, he often sports a mustache, but it was later coming than his brother’s. He also got into less trouble. Perhaps he was more careful not to get caught.
We all say; Murdoch is good company.

Murdoch and Robert both actually got through school, though there were some heart-
stopping moments. It was not straightforward for either of them to get through high school.
They both graduated from college. Murdoch went straight on through in four years. Robert
took some extra years and went to several colleges before graduating. They each have had
various careers over the years. Murdoch’s trajectory was straight and continuously upward.
Robert, the entrepreneur, is often criticized for not just getting a nine-to-five job, because his
ups and downs have sometimes been dizzying. Robert is a dynamic person, either loved or hated but never ignored. Between the two of them, they have four children. Three of those are Murdoch’s with his wife, Susie. Robert has only one. They are marvelous parents. And their children are exemplary.

Sometimes, when I look at my grown sons, I remember those early years, the noise they
made, and the constant cleanup. The things they broke and the mischief they got into
seemed more than I could bear some days. And now, they take care of me in ways that show
me they care and want to help. Of course, my older three children are also very helpful, but this story is about my younger, two.

Between all five of them, I am well cared for.

Murdoch steadies me with his calm demeanor, high standards, and strict work ethic. We often have lunch together when our schedules allow. Robert is nearby when he is in Virginia, and so I see him often. He stops by and asks, “What do you have for dinner?” But, he also arranges to have work done on my house, fixes things that break and generally takes care of things. Sometimes, I need to pinch myself when I compare the difference between those two boys growing up and the men they are today. The intervening decades have been full of all sorts of family gatherings and milestones. We have a lot of fun when we gather the clan together. And we do it pretty frequently.

Change happens gradually (except for those sudden, unexpected ones), and it is mind-blowing to realize that my now middle-aged sons are responsible men whom one can depend on. They survived all those noisy fights and the crazy stunts and wildly dangerous pranks.

They are men to be proud of, and they make ME PROUD.

Copyright©. 2024 Bonnie B. Matheson