September 29th, 2009
It’s ten after eight. The baby is asleep. My house is clean and the dog is dozing at my feet. The whirring of the baby monitor and the rumbling of the dryer provide a soothing soundtrack, as the baby’s diapers tumble around, ready for day care tomorrow.
My husband is due home any minute from a church meeting and dinner is almost ready. The chicken is sauteing gently, the broccoli is steaming and the home-made biscuits will come out of the oven as soon as I finish this post.
The feminist in me may scowl (she is a bit scowly, now and again), but as a wife and mother, these moments of domestic peace bring me a deep sense of accomplishment. There is something ancient and feminine and true about the daily rituals of life and I give thanks for them.