Cooking sometimes needs a break

It has been 20 years since my marriage, and in all those years I have cooked almost every single day. If I count the exceptions, they might add up to just about a month—or a little more—spread across all those years. Sometimes it feels like the cooking never stops, stretching from morning till night without pause.  

But these days, I find myself losing the joy I once had in cooking. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because, in every middle-class home, the wife is expected to be everything at once—the cook, the laundry lady, the cleaner, the caretaker of the entire family. And now, as I step into the 21st year of marriage, the expectations from my husband remain unchanged, as if time has stood still.  

It makes me wonder: when will the roles evolve, when will the weight be shared? For years, I have carried the rhythm of the household, but somewhere along the way, the music of it has begun to fade.