When I was young, I would occasionally find myself home alone for the weekend with my mom.  My dad was an avid golfer and skiier who took many weekend trips to indulge in these hobbies; sometimes I would elect to stay home rather than join him, and it was these times when he was away that I had my best experiences of domesticity.

My mother would first clean the house - Dad being something of a tornado of debris, she generally allowed things to be messy when he was home, a decision based I believe on an acknowledgment of reality.  But with him gone, everything could be put to order and expected to stay that way.  With the house clean, she moved on to puttering: baking, sewing, and painting being her chief occupations when the house was to herself. I was mainly an observer here; my mother and I were not friends while I was growing up, and though we didn’t argue, we simply had very little to do with one another.  Yet I loved these times when it was just the two of us at home.  We didn’t talk much, and I didn’t share in performing her hobbies with her, but somehow there was a feeling of relaxation and contentment and coziness that could only occur under these particular circumstances.  I loved it.

Now I see much of her in me.  When Husband leaves home for a few days, I too make a thorough cleaning my first order of business.  Then I sew or cook or read - putter, in other words.  And I get that feeling of contentment, though when I am home alone I sometimes wish to have someone to share it with.

This weekend, Husband had four days off work.  We stuck close to home, other than two day trip drives.  I did my cleaning and ordering and cooking and reading and sewing - and it was perfect.  We achieved just the right balance of independence and interdependence, socializing and staying in, relaxing and doing things.  We had some serious talks but also laughed a great deal.  And I have realized that this is the best feeling I know: contentment, in my home, with my beloved husband, as we carry out daily occupations at a leisurely pace.

And that is what motivates me to be a home maker, insofar as I perform those tasks.  It’s not that I like cleaning the bathroom, or even necessarily that I love the cleanness of the result (though that is very good) - it’s an emotional experience of peace and warmth that requires order and recreational industry to manifest.