🕯️ The Curtain Neighbor

You complain about the Curtain Neighbor. "The busybody", "the one who sees everything". I thought so too. Until she told me why she looks out the window.

She's lived alone for eleven years. The kids grew up, the husband left with the oldest excuse in the world, and the house settled into that size of silence you only understand when you live it. The window became her television. It's not gossip: it's company. She knows everyone's schedule because other people's schedules are the clock she has left.

But there was something she told me quietly, ashamed. Every night, before sleeping, she puts on a beautiful nightgown. A lace babydoll she bought herself on a birthday no one remembered. It's not for anyone to see — that curtain, she closes. It's so she can lie down and remember she's still a woman, still whole, still deserving to sleep beautiful even if only God sees.

I cried, honestly. Because the woman we judged for watching everyone else's life is the one who takes the most care of herself, in secret.

Next week she's going to do something. For the first time in eleven years, she's going to open the curtain on purpose. And I'll be there to tell it.

The nightgown she wears just for herself: 📢 See the babydoll →

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