Coffee thoughts as day is yawning awake - -
Years ago when Rick and I first got married, late one night while standing on the front porch in the darkness with only the dim light shining through the curtained window, his arms around me, my back against his chest – Rick asked me a question.
“What do you want to do, to be, in this life? Because whatever you choose, I will support you without question, hesitation or argument.”
Slowly I turned towards him, looked into his eyes, laid my hands softly on either cheek and said,
“I want to be your wife, the mother of your children, and the keeper of your home.”
With a soft tear rolling down his right cheek, he smiled, and huskily said,
“Then, I tell you what – I will make the living, you make the living worthwhile.”
We stood like that for what seemed forever.
Seems I can still feel his arms around me, smell him, hear his heart beating against my ear.
For all those years of our marriage, that is exactly what we both strived to be and to do.
There were a few times along the way that I worked part time out of the home, just for a little supplement to our income.
But for the most part, he blessed me by allowing me to follow my heart and have my desire.
I read these words today – and they resonate so deeply within my soul.
For all those years.
And for my years now – even though I am a widow.
“I love being at home. My life is very simple. I read a lot of books. I watch some films. I listen to music. I talk to the dog. I cook. Yeah, guess I am boring.” (Cillian Murphy)
I will add that I clean, and I write.
I work on my website.
I really do not like to shop – only going to the grocery store when I must.
I rarely go out after dark.
I am usually an early riser.
I sit on the porch in the heat of the afternoon and enjoy the shade it provides in the sultry Texas heat.
For me, being a homemaker, a housewife (or it is now housewidow?), is both ordinary and extraordinary – it is a quiet rebellion against the noise and chaos of today’s hyper-connected world.
I am not threatened by someone else’s choice of life and living.
I rejoice for each one reaching their desires and experiencing their dreams - whether in their home, or out in the world.
Whether alone or surrounded by a crowd.
If you believe it and work to achieve it - I am one of your biggest supporters!
We live in a culture that is obsessed with productivity, external validation and constant motion.
So, choosing a simple way of life feels a lot like luxury to me.
I think of my Momma, Rick’s grandmother, my aunts, and my sisters – the lives they chose, in being homemakers, or housewives.
The five star resorts and Instagram-perfect escapes hold absolutely no allure to me.
Yes, one day I would love to go to the beach, put my arse in the sand and my toes in the water with a cold drink in my hand.
And there are places I dream of visiting.
But, my indulgence is in the sanctuary of the home – the stillness, the familiarity, the gentle rhythms of life that ground me.
Home to me is not just 4 walls, it is not even a location.
Home to me is an emotional ecosystem.
It is the smell of freshly brewed coffee on a quiet morning with the sun peeking over the trees, the birds softly singing out the window.
It is the reassuring click of the door that closes out a part of the world that is too often uninviting and excluding to a widow.
It is the softness of my favorite blanket – the one I splurged on, a cooling blanket that is both warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Not sure how it does that, but oh how I love it and the security it seems to offer me night upon night.
Home is the songs that invoke memories – some are laughter, some are a soft tear rolling down the cheek, and a few are the gut punches of what life reality now is as a widow.
It is the loyal companionship of a dog, who follows step for step as I clean. Wanting only to be touched, loved – oh and a doggie cookie every so often.
It is the pages of a book that I have read countless times but never get tired of reading again.
Memories of that book read aloud with Rick, sharing our thoughts and images, discussing the turn of events within those pages.
Home is the clatter of pots, pans and dishes in the kitchen – putting a meal together for sustenance, and for enjoyment.
It is an orchestra of connection and comfort.
It is the growing stack of unread books that whisper promises of discovery, adventure, solace, wisdom.
Staying home as a housewife isn’t about doing less to me.
It is about being more that I could be anywhere else, doing anything else.
I still get out and about, connecting with family and with friends.
I help do a little fencing, love on a horse, gather a few eggs.
Have been known to hoe a few weeds.
Go out to eat on rare occasions.
Yes, even shop (when I must, lol).
But being here . . . It is the way for me to find contentment within my soul.
It is a return to life, not the absence from it.
It feels natural to me.
Reconnecting me with my ancestors.
There is freedom in looking around and realizing that I have everything I need – there is not one thing I must have before I close my eyes tonight.
Perhaps the greatest freedom is in knowing that that I am home – not just in this space, wherever that space may be . . . but within my own soul.
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