31 July 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2815: mature cheese
Mrs. Thalia Ludlow smiled broadly as she watched her husband, Capt. R.E. Ludlow, patiently moving through the day with the eight Ludlow little ones they had adopted as their very own … that big, hardened warrior, healing in process with being Papa to his seven grandchildren and little cousin … patience and peace. Day after day, he never complained, never grew weary although both of them were quite often exhausted, and it seemed that he was happier than she had ever thought he might be again after losing both his children.
However, every now and again, she liked to remind him that she was paying attention to Robert Edward Ludlow Sr. as a man … the things he enjoyed for himself … not that one could keep eight curious and big-eater children off anything easily, but one could also get enough for everyone.
“Wait, what?” five-year-old Robert Edward Ludlow III said when the package arrived. “There's cheese almost as old as I am?”
“If we knew we could do this,” nine-year-old George said, “we would just leave milk out for a few years and make that money!”
“That's not exactly how that works,” big sister eleven-year-old Eleanor said, “but this is some mature cheese, because cheese ages in like double dog years compared to a glass of milk.”
“You can't even make sour cream out here without every bug trying to get in it,” big brother ten-year-old Andrew said. “You gotta make cheese in caves and cool weather and stuff – and yeah, this is from way up in the Blue Ridge, so, yeah, kinda.”
“Wait a minute – there's a cheese named Grayson in here!” said six-year-old Grayson Ludlow. “What do I even taste like?”
Sure enough, in the Appalachians, Meadow Creek Dairy of Virginia makes a cheese called Grayson.
Grayson Ludlow had found Grayson the cheese decoy, which was all part of the plan – the little Ludlows and their four friends Velma (11), Milton (9), and Gracie Trent (8) with their cousin Vertran Stepforth (9) soon were all wrapped up with that, with Vertran interviewing Grayson – Ludlow, not the cheese – about what he felt about having a cheese named after him and how he thought he tasted as a cheese. Mrs. Ludlow did a whole cracker and salad setup to go with the cheese for all the kids, and she and Capt. Ludlow watched them enjoying this whole idea for lunch.
“I knew you were a special person,” ten-year-old Glendella Ludlow said as she embraced her little brother, “and I'm glad the world knows too, now, without you even having to get loud.”
“I don't know how they figured out I was here,” Grayson said, “but, I'm thankful, because this is actually some good cheese. It's really good with the black crackers.”
So the children ran around outside and got next to each other to try different combinations, and meanwhile, Capt. Ludlow sliced the little wedge of extra-aged Gouda, part of a wheel that Mrs. Ludlow had ordered three years earlier, and gallantly served his wife the first slice.
“Now you know I can't stand cheese that doesn't know whether it is cheese, caramel, pineapple, a salt lick, and a crunchy snack at the same time,” Mrs. Ludlow said with a laugh. “I'm going to eat more of Grayson here – not our Grayson, of course, but this cheese here – and be happy, while you enjoy that.”
“Oh, I will, and thank you so much, my love,” he said. “Also for all these vegetables I'm going to be eating to keep from causing myself some complicated trouble that we don't have with caramel, pineapple, and all that. You do know that aged cheese and spinach sauteed with onions is a lunch fit for a king.”
“Better than that – for a Ludlow papa,” she said, and smiled as he grinned.
“You're right – it is better, at least for me,” he said. “Thank you, Thalia, for loving me.”
“Thank you for loving me, Robert,” she said, and they shared a kiss before passing the spinach and onions back and forth and watching the children on the yard enjoy their lunch as well.
“All I know is,” eight-year-old Edwina Ludlow said, “nobody better mistake our Grayson for this and start trying to slice him, because I will break bad!”
“But, Eddie, he's the wrong shape and he can talk, so, he's safe and so are we,” seven-year-old Amanda Ludlow said as she love-tackled her big sister.