Window Treatment
I was sitting in the front room of a friends house outside Wimberly on Saturday night waiting on a house concert to start when I noticed the drapes. Now I’ve sat in this house on a number of similar occasions and seen the drapes but never noticed them. This time I saw the poles upon which they hung, the rings in the material through which the poles ran, and even the color of the drapes. I thought they looked really nice. I then thought of the drapes in my bedroom and compared them to these drapes. Mine suffered by the comparison. They felt drab, droopy, and dull.
When next I laid eyes upon them, it was confirmed. My drapes had seen better days. They seemed listless and dull. I never opened them because it was hard to do so. They just hung, blocking the windows, blocking the light, having no fun at all. Down they came. Then came the surprises. The dust was deep on the windows and the sills. There were blinds. There were sheers. All dusty. I washed the sheers. Hung them to dry. Cleaned the window frames and sills and blinds. Put the sheers back up. And now the room looks airy and light as it did when we first moved in.
I believe these curtains were another of those monuments to my late wife’s dementia. When she knew the form of things but was losing the details. The drapes were hand hemmed to shorten them, but they weren’t sharp, and I doubt in her prime she would have long endured the drooping curtain rod upon when they hung, or the listless way they did their job. Surely, there would have been tie backs for color and style. If I replace the curtains, I’ll try to do it with that sense of style in mind. The sort of style I have once again with the airy sheers, and the blinds, and the welcoming morning light.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale