They are intended to veil, intended to keep out –light, eyes, things of that sort –yet they retain properties contradictory to their intended behavior. They almost seem transparent, but only slightly so, and only in a few places. White remains the main color; however, the plants, the ground, and the windowpane itself alters this original color presumption. Their sheer quality reveals more than most of their kind typically do, however badly they try not to. The drapes are, in essence, going against their presumably innate nature, which is to conceal in times of private matter. This rebellion is minor, and frankly quite blotchy, but it is still a rebellion in its effort.
They long to let the light in when its purpose is to keep it out. They long to let eyes wander in –and, frankly, out –even when matters are seemingly to be kept private. They long for others to enter into the privacy of the home; however, this does not entail entrance into that home, for drapes do not hold that authoritative power. They keep those out who desire only to look in –to look on. The transparency of these drapes, however, permit these people to snag a slight glance from time to time, letting the world know the truth that is within the home.
So is true of my life. Although transparency may seem to be a goal worth striving for, my privy life has played out differently. My inclination throughout childhood was to remain hidden –my thoughts, actions, feelings, and the like. My life felt as though it should be private; lacking transparency felt safe. And in a sense it was. Like the dense nature of drapes, my walls were thick, high, and long, allowing for no person to see in.
But as my years increased in number, so did the thoughts swarming my lonely mind. I began to desire transparency, as much as I had forced it away earlier in life. Plainness suddenly had a sweet smell, and I only caught a drift of it in the opened windows of others. But their smell was pungent. I longed for only a slight waft of that sweet smell from time to time. I longed to remain private, but to open up when desired or necessary. I longed to allow my walls to break down. I longed to let others eyes wander upon mine without thought of intrusion. I longed to seek light. I longed to be like the drapes of The Red Kerchief.