Onion Woman - The silent Architect

They say success has many fathers.

But peace?

Peace quietly wears a loose bun, faded pajamas, and slippers older than your startup.

She doesn’t attend meetings.

She hosts them around the dining table.

Let me introduce you to someone I call the Onion Woman.

Yes… onions. Layers. Tears. Spice.

She makes you cry sometimes, but silently adds flavor to every part of your life.

While the world measures value in salaries and titles,

She measures it in silences she breaks, fights she prevents,

and birthdays she remembers (without Facebook reminders).

Her job description?

HR of emotional breakdowns.

CFO of the family budget.

A therapist who accepts tears as payment.

She knows your socks better than you know your passwords.

And she’s still waiting for the world to say “Thank you.”

You don’t see her power until things stop working.

She’s like the TV remote,  ignored until it vanishes.

Then suddenly, the whole house is in chaos.

No breakfast. No peace. No Wi-Fi password.

That’s when it hits

She isn’t just managing a house.

She is holding the law of gravity in place.

And yet, people say, “You’re lucky to stay home all day.”

Yes, lucky.

To run a 25-hour shift inside a 24-hour day.

To play the villain in teenage tantrums,

the chef for different taste buds,

and the peacemaker between your ego and your dad’s politics.

She doesn’t work from home.

She works as home.

Want to know why her food tastes like love?

Because it is.

The last slice of cake that she pretended she didn’t want.

The chai she reheated four times.

The dish you love, which she made, even when she was tired.

She doesn't just add salt and spices

She adds her presence,

her patience,

and her peace.

Even when the walls shake and tempers rise,

She stands still, anchoring everyone.

While CEOs manage empires,

She manages emotional economies.

Ask a child, “Who do you run to when it hurts?”

It’s never a Google search.

It’s always her.

So today

Let’s raise a toast to the Onion Women.

Not because they make us cry,

but because they hold the flavor of life together.

Quietly. Consistently.Without applause.

Dear housewives,

You are not invisible.

You are indispensable.

You are not unemployed.

You are irreplaceable.

Let this not be a tribute.

Let it be an awakening.

Tell her. Hug her. Thank her.

Not because it’s a special day.

But because she made every day possible.

---- BiH@g ( All © Reserved )