Friday at Home

This post will be either really peaceful or really boring, depending on your perspective. I've spent the morning tidying the house, picking up and putting away and cleaning and washing and folding. And I've had one of those windows of time when the housework has transcended the "have tos," the tedium of repetition, and become something that sprouted peace in me. I stopped to notice the slant of sun across the hardwood, the pleasant fluffiness of clean clothes, the competent and comfortable sense of tucking in, making ready, and putting right. My sister and her family will be stopping by tomorrow, so part of it is wanting things to look nice, but another part is the delight I take on Friday nights, when my work is done and done well, "all are safely gathered in," and our home is comfortable and ready for play and rest.

Many days I hurry through my tasks, I watch with despair as the first dirty clothes hit the hamper that was only empty for a few minutes, and I don't summon the energies for extra niceties like linen spray and fresh greenery. But when I linger, when I am fully present to the moment, I feel a link with generations of women who have combined necessity with beauty, who have put love and care into the work of their hands.