Home should be an oratorio of the memory, singing to all our after life melodies and harmonies of old remembered joy.-HENRY WARD BEECHER, Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit
I see them now. A naval officer, a music teacher, a Broadway star, and a caretaker of children still trying to find his way. But I also see them as they were. Just children. Learning to be grown ups. Learning to love one another. Learning to protect each other.
I’d been waiting for this event for years it seems. To see all four of them standing together, in the same room. Meggie and her three young gentlemen. Her three BFFs. Her loves. Her protectors. There they were, last night. My heart swelled with motherly love. It made me nostalgic. Made me mourn for the past a bit.
I see A., a ginger with a soul. He’s a good man. Always has been. Loved my daughter like no other at one time. Always protected her. I told her one time that she should marry him, because he was going to be a huge success and very, very rich. She just laughed and told me that they would always be best friends. I’m glad they are. Still.
Now M., he’s the charmer. My “other” son. He and Meggie have always sung and harmonized together. Did they sing last night? Of course! A bit of Edelweiss. Those two have loved each other since the sixth grade. He called her one time and told her that they needed to get married, so they could have beautiful Czech and Irish babies. Roger Darling and I wholeheartedly agreed!
And then there’s sweet, funny, gentle R. I think he liked my girl at one time too. He has always been the sweet, funny one. The one that will make sure the right thing is done. That everyone is taken care of. He told me last night he was saving himself for the right girl. I looked at him and asked him, but why? Go find some young hottie to break some furniture with, you’re young and free for the love of God. He guffawed, high fived me and then told me how much he missed me. I just grinned and said, I know.
I stood with M. and R. and watched our children interact with each other, for maybe the last time. We rejoiced in watching them. M said she wondered where our futures were going. I looked at her. Then at our children. Told her our future is right there in front of us. They always have been our future. We were just too busy raising them to see it.