It is dusk here as I write this. It's the most beautiful thing. I wish I could capture it, bottle it up and save it away. Do you remember, when you were little? Do you remember what it felt like to be outside as a child as the sun fell and the trees became silhouettes?
There's the sound of lawnmowers and birds chirping, the smell of grass and earth fresh from the afternoon's rain shower. The sky, tinged with the lavender orange light of a spring sunset, illuminates the flowers and plants and little creatures, casts shadows on the landscape that grow longer by the minute. You can almost taste the sound of an ice cream truck making its final round before nightfall. Inside it is cozy, the lamplights forming a haze around the furniture, the figures of your family. All is peaceful, all is right.
This is what I dreamt about when I was little; I used to sit on the front porch in the summers as my mamma and I would watch the sunset over the mountains, and I knew, this is all I ever wanted. A quiet life, with those little moments that fill up your entire soul and remind you that you are alive. The simple act of carrying a basket of freshly laundered clothes up the old staircase to fold and put away. A bubbling pot of pasta on the stove, kids laughing as they play soccer in the yard next door.
I have never wanted anything more in my life than to be a wife, to be a homemaker. I'm fully aware that it's not for everyone, I get that. And I have certainly struggled with allowing myself the sentiment before, denying it to myself many times, because I was afraid everyone would think I was letting myself down, not rising to my full potential, wasting my life on something so simple.
But for me, it was never about finding that perfect job. While I'd love to find a career I love, deep down, even those times I didn't dare admit it to myself, it was always about this: creating a life of little pleasures, just like my own mamma did for me all those years. She gave me the most beautiful life I could have ever wished for, and now I'm creating it for my own family, my own future, and my own self.
The heart of the homemaker is in the ability to care, to serve, to cherish and to love--it's in the ability to find joy in the natural pace of life, to avoid the keeping up and giving in, the stress of society's constant movement that continuously increases in speed. I know it's an opportunity not everyone has--there are bills to pay, after all--and perhaps it won't always be like this for me. But I am so very grateful, for this, for right now. I finally wake up with purpose, I feel content. I finally believe I am leading the life I was meant to live.