I have nine windows in my home with lovely floor-length curtains. Every morning I draw them open to let in the new day. And every night I shut them against the cold and dark. The grommets in the drapes zing across the metal rods like beads moving another day to the “spent” side of the abacus.
Open … close … open … close … marking the relentless rush of time as it sweeps everything forward. (“Forward” is a Judeo-Christian concept; Eastern religions and older philosophies believe history is eternally cyclical, devoid of progress and telos.)
What is washed away leaves gaping holes and empty spaces—like closets. I boxed up Susan’s clothes this morning and donated them to a store that provides business attire to low-income women entering the workplace. She would like that.
open … close … full … empty … open …
The thing about curtains and closets is to keep them open.