It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was still high at this time of the month of March. For her, it was the end of another day and the beginning of another. Soon the kids would be home, bringing with them the whole day in their dusty shoes, torn papers and sometimes pride, assignments and few fights.

As a dutiful mother, she had prepared drinks and cookies or whatever she fancies to prepare for them, to let them know that she cares…really cares than any of their classmates’ mothers. Soon enough, the kids barged in. She dropped the “Woman with an Alabaster Jar”, a book she was starting to read. She opened the door and greeted them. The six year old girl kissed her on the lips lightly, a sign of affection that she never outgrown. The girl was her spitting image according to their friends and relatives; though she never objected, she denied it secretly. She was prettier than her, except that the latter was more affectionate and confident even at a young age. Her eight year old son was reserved and has the composure of an academic, like his father. Nevertheless, she preferred him to be athletic and a little brusque. The father was both. She wondered if the boy could survive life’s jungle.

As the kids did their assignment while having snacks, she went to the kitchen and prepared dinner. At 7:30 in the evening, the kids were fed and ready to bed. Her husband would be home at 8:00. She would eat supper with him. When her husband came, another fleck of outside world entered her domain. He always had something new to tell; the stupid students, the discussions, they had about economy, the new president, even about God. She listened and made some opinions. Then they discussed the kids’ day at school, but not her day at home. Anyway, what was new to her? The brand new laundry soap or the new recipe she learned from a TV show? Not much of interest.

Their modest bungalow in that quiet neighborhood was the symbol of her domestication. Domesticated, she hated the word. It reminded her of the times she mocked the women who chose families over their careers. Yet she ended like one of them. She secretly envied those women working in the offices. They were dim-witted anyway, never knowing anything beside their monotonous work, she thought, a defense mechanism that she built for herself, knowing that she could be better if she was out there in the world. Well, I chose to stay home because I cannot find a job that suits my schedule with the kids. The kids reason again! And besides, the husband provided everything.