This is my greatest fear.

I looked on as they dexterously mixed the bean batter,
While simultaneously rearranging the burning wood by the large tripod,
They made the last twirl with the wooden stirrer,
I peeped at the smile on their faces,
Spelling satisfaction at the turn out of their efforts,
I listened quietly to the crackle of the fire,
As they carried on their chore with something close to desire,
I looked on and wondered,
Is this all there really is?
On they went with their chore,
Gisting and chatting as they worked,
Each contributing her quota to the conversation,
Lamenting about their daily struggles and altercations,
About the woes that trail the average man,
I listened to their semi-intelligent talk,
Some of which I gathered they picked from their husband’s tongues,
I looked on and wondered,
Would I one day be in their shoes?
Would I one day boil down my personality to this compatibility equation?
This average life that they live through,
That I don’t see myself leading too,
Would I be able to choose?
This is my greatest fear.

For the housewives of our compound,
I salute your efforts.

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