WINDOW TO THE WORLD

The frayed sash on the Georgian style double-hung window gave way suddenly and Josh howled in pain as the heavy bottom panel, weighted with two centuries of history came crashing down with a resounding thud on his fingers. Screaming expletives that would make a drunken sailor cringe, he pried them free and simultaneously shot bolt upright in bed. Confused, he stuck both hands out in front of him, wiggled his fingers and felt no pain in any of them. Of course he didn't - he was in bed, a clear 8 feet away from the window which was in tact and slightly ajar just the way he had left it when he went to bed. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself as he clambered out of bed, still confused and nursing his supposedly injured right hand. He shuffled groggily to the bathroom, flicked the light on with his left hand and approaching the mirror, shakily held the other one up to it, checking for swelling or bruises. "It was just a nightmare you jackass," he scolded himself as he sloshed water over his face.

Back on his bed, he sat tensely on the edge of it, glancing at the time on the old fashioned alarm clock on the night stand and groaning inwardly. It was just after 1 a.m. and he desperately needed a good night's sleep to be fresh for the hectic day ahead of him. It would be an early start with his shift on his delivery job starting at 7:00 a.m. He would usually knock off from that gig at 2 p.m., grab some lunch and then do the commute across town in time for his second part time job as security at a college campus. Wednesdays were always hectic though because he had to add in his mid-week check in on his mother and drop off supplies for her. It was doable, but tight depending on the traffic, and he was meticulous about never being late as he couldn't afford to jeopardize either job, surviving as he was on an already skinny budget. Wednesdays were also very tiring because after his second gig, he volunteered two hours of his time manning the crisis hotline on campus. He sighed just thinking about the day ahead, and though he could ill afford to lose any more sleep, still reached for his phone on the night table to check for new messages.

The screen opened to the message that he was last reading before falling asleep and he winced once again at the scathing words there.

"I can't believe you're going to let this chance slip by”, his bestie- hopefully soon to be girlfriend - Sadie had written in block letters for emphasis.

“It’s a perfect window of opportunity” (block letters again), “and you’re just slamming it shut….. just like that – THUD!!”

Josh blinked, read the words again and slowly turned his head to look at his bedroom window, then lowered his eyes to his imaginary bruised hand. He let his eyes travel back to the phone screen – “WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY” the screen jeered. The words had obviously haunted his dreams, and his subconscious mind had enabled them, bringing them to life through a powerful, surreal dramatisation which had jolted him out of his sleep. Now that he was wide awake they were not only haunting him, but taunting him.

Sadie was right of course. He was on the brink of letting a perfect window of opportunity slide by. The curator at the Art Gallery downtown had invited him to bring in a portfolio of his artwork for review tomorrow…. well, make that today! An unexpected opportunity and chance of a lifetime, but with just hours to go now, it clearly wasn’t going to happen.

It was a stroke of luck that he had even met the curator in the first place when he he had made a delivery to the Gallery last Friday. Having the good fortune to have to transit through one of the Exhibition halls to make his delivery, he couldn’t resist stealing two minutes on his way back to the delivery entrance to gaze at some of the pieces on exhibition by the up and coming Artist whom the art critiques were all abuzz about these days.

“Stunning piece isn’t it?” a silky voice behind him had said, jolting him out of his artistic reverie.

Looking over his left shoulder, he saw that the voice belonged to an attractive, perfectly coifed, immaculately dressed woman who rattled on, seemingly unaware that she had startled him with her unannounced appearance.

“I keep trying to figure out whether that’s meant to be a demon’s face hidden in the bark of the tree. I asked the artist, but of course he wouldn’t say”.

“Of course not. We never tell”, Josh had chuckled spontaneously, watching as she stepped forward and leaned closer to the picture, squinting intently at the tree.

“That’s the beauty of Art”, he continued with an uncharacteristic confidence. “It’s subject to soooo many different interpretations. I am often surprised by the levels and the meanings others see in my work”.

“Ah, so you’re an artist yourself then”, she surmised, straightening up and turning her attention towards him. He flushed self-consciously and guiltily, suddenly remembering that neither his current job description nor his time sheet provided for this unauthorised musing and casual banter over an exhibit. But the woman seemed not to care about his overstepping of boundaries as she candidly began quizzing him about his work - how long he had been painting, his style, where he got his inspiration from and whether he had exhibited anywhere before. He had answered her questions with an easy fluidity, his usual self-consciousness forgotten whenever he spoke about his passion.

“Well, it all sounds quite intriguing. I would love to see some of your work” she said crisply, looking at her watch and spinning on her elegant navy blue pumps, obviously on the move again.

 “We’re doing a new exhibit next month and we’re reserving a space for a few pieces from an undiscovered artist. No commitments of course, but if you bring me your Portfolio, it can go into the pool for consideration. Let’s see….”, she continued not pausing for his feedback or confirmation. Her eyes narrowed and did a dance from side to side as they seemed to do a mental scan of her diary. “Monday and Tuesday are impossible, but Wednesday is good. After that I’m out of town for a couple of weeks. What time do you get off work?” she asked.

“Uhm… on Wednesday?” Josh stammered stupidly, still totally taken aback by this unforeseen, random encounter. “Ammm, I finish my shift at 2 o’clock” he said shakily and hesitatingly, his self confidence quickly evaporating.

"That's perfect!" she shot back enthusiastically, retreating backwards with practiced expertise on her heels towards the elevator.

"Get here by 3 then and we'll talk some more" she clipped with a confident finality before spinning around with the grace of a dancer to jab the elevator call button with her pen. The doors opened immediately and she stepped in with the air of authority of one who always had an elevator waiting at her beck and call.

"Oh, I didn't get your name?" she called out, eyebrows arched questioningly, pen poised over her clipboard.

"Oh right……it’s……I’m Josh.....uh Josh Cannon" he bumbled.

"Nice to meet you Josh! Kelly Flowers". The response slipped through the closing elevator doors, floating towards him like a sing song rhythm riding the gentle waves of the Caribbean Sea. And just like that he had copped an opportunity to show his Portfolio to Kelly Flowers - THE Kelly Flowers - one of the city's most renowned Curators!

"And just like that you want to throw it away!" he now heard Sadie's voice reverberating in his head as he stared down at his phone screen..... "WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY"! The words seemed to leap up from the screen and scream at him. He gave an agonized groan and flopped backwards on the bed, drawing for the hundredeth time, an imaginary Pros and Cons chart on the ceiling.

The Pros were easy. He would have the chance to show his work to Kelly Flowers. Worst case scenario - even if he didn't get a shot at exhibiting this time around, if she liked his work enough, she would keep him in mind for future exhibits, or refer him to other curators and gallery representatives. Best case scenario, he would be selected and with his first exhibition in a reputable gallery having been chosen and given the nod by THE Kelly Flowers......well...... the possibilities were just endless! He could finally explode on to the local Art scene and "Wow the World With Wonder!" as his mother, his biggest fan, had predicted numerous times over the years.

But on the Cons side……. there was first of all the said encouraging mother to think about. If he went to meet with Kelly, he wouldn't be able to check in on his Mom today, and based on his schedule, he wouldn't get another chance till the weekend. She was wheelchair bound and didn’t get out easily without assistance and never liked to bother others even if they were willing to help. Then there was the logistics of it all - the Art Gallery would take him in the completely opposite direction from the college campus. Depending on how long his meeting with Kelly lasted, the traffic would be horrendous by the time he was done, and he would very likely be late for his second job. He definitely did not want to risk that. And thirdly and most importantly, he didn't actually have a Portfolio ready! Yes, he had all the material - beautiful quality, high resolution photos of many of his pieces, but they were not assembled into a Portfolio, even though he had the binder, the labels and all the tools and material he needed to put it together. With the right measure of commitment and focus, he knew that he could have readily put his Portfolio together in a matter of hours, but when he had tried to do it over the weekend, he had choked, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of what theme to go with, which pieces to choose, how many pieces would be appropriate, how it should flow......just……. where…..how to start! "Ugh! Paralysis by Analysis" he had scolded himself inwardly.

Sadie had been less gentle. "Imposter Syndrome!" she had yelled at him over the phone when he confessed late Sunday afternoon that he had not yet started working on it. "You know you're just making up all these excuses and obstacles because you're afraid! You've been dying for an opportunity to get exhibited, to get a break. Well this is it Josh….this is perfect! It's a Godsend!"

"Listen", she cut him off as he attempted to interrupt with a feeble defence. "It's simple - ask your Mom's neighbour, Sandy to check in on her. You know she won't mind. She can find out what groceries your Mom needs before she leaves for work in the morning and pick them up on her way home. You can pay her back on the weekend. Hasn't she happily done that for you before?"

"Yes, but....." Josh faltered, unable to find a justifiable 'but'. Sadie was moving on anyway. "And I'm pretty sure that Kelly won't keep you that long at the Gallery. She's a busy lady, she said as much herself. But just in case you get delayed and you're running late for your job, why don't you just ask Richie to stay on and cover for you until you get there. It will be what….30 minutes.....an hour maximum? You've done the same for him. How many times has he said he owes you one? So… call in the favour!"

Once more Josh tried to interject, but she was having none of it. "Jossshhh", she pleaded "You’ve got this. You know your work is good.....damn good! Stop letting your fear of not being good enough get in the way and just GET IT DONE!" The last three words were said stacatto style for emphasis.

"I will!" he had promised, once more regretting that she was out of town on a business trip. Otherwise he knew she would have plopped down crosslegged unto his living room floor and helped him sort, organize and put together an amazing winning Portfolio.

"I will" he repeated for emphasis before hanging up. But he hadn't. Sunday had slipped into Monday which became a blurry, busy Tuesday and now here he was, window of opportunity closed because of his procrastination and fear of.....

A loud screeching sound followed by a thud across the room shook him abruptly out of his rueful thoughts. For the second time that night he shot up in bed alarmed. His eyes darted to the window where he was shocked to see an owl perched on the sill peering in at him. He blinked in disbelief. "What the.....?" he uttered out loud, completely bewildered. "Wooo-whooo" the owl cawed before tapping its short, curved beak hard on the window three times. With his mouth still open, Josh watched as the owl spread its wings and flew off to a nearby tree, settling on a branch almost at the same height as the window.

Josh crossed the room in two strides staring through the window at the winged creature still peering - accusingly it seemed - back at him. He had never seen an owl in these environs before. Perhaps a few streets North closer to the woody park area, but never on his street let alone so close to his apartment building. "Whootoo-wooo-towoooo!" the owl cried again defiantly, and Josh thought he must either be seriously sleep deprived or going mad because when he replayed the sound in his head, he could have sworn that the legendary symbol of wisdom had just distinctly said " Window of Opportuuuniitttyy".

“The cry or hooting of an owl is a call for self-actualization” – a line from a bird-watching class he had done years ago popped into his head.

"Okay okkaayy I get it!" Josh snapped at the owl, and at the unseen gods who seemed to be remotely engineering his destiny. With a parting glance at the owl who was still glaring at him, he padded into the neighbouring sitting room. His eyes fixed first on the shiny beautiful binder he had purchased for a pretty penny, and then panned the room, surveying the scores of photographs littering the sofa, coffee table and every available surface. He looked at his watch and with a resigned but determined sigh, sank cross-legged to the floor.

He got to work almost immediately, pausing only to send two texts - the first to his Mom's neighbour Sandy to ask her if she would check in on her and find out what groceries she needed. The second was to Richie, letting him know he might be late for work that afternoon, and asking him to cover his shift for him until he got there. Then, slipping quietly into the focused, creative zone that was usually reserved for his painting, he set to work, stopping only for periodic stretches and coffee to keep him going.

It all came together almost seamlessly. He researched the Gallery thoroughly to get a feel of what their thrust, themes and preferences were. Then his fingers flew over the piles of photos of his work, deftly selecting the best ones, organizing them into a logical but simple flow that would be easy for Kelly and other reviewers to follow. He meticulously followed the guidelines he had learnt in Art school, labeling each piece with title, media, and relevant notes strategically placed so that the reviewers would be able to find them quickly and easily. He prepared his pricing list with ease, quelling the natural instinct to undervalue his work. He reviewed his Artist Resume and Artist Biography checking for errors and typos and last, but by no means least, he crafted his Artist Statement, explaining the meaning behind his creations, his artistic process, and the why behind his passion.

As he slipped the last document into place in the Portfolio he became aware of a glint on the hardwood floor, flickering in between the unused photographs and the bits of discarded scrap paper. His eyes followed it upwards to its origins. It was he saw, the first beam of sunlight filtering through the open window. As he welcomed the birth of a new day and all the possibilities that rode the early rays of dawn, he snapped the binder shut with an air of finality and held it up at arms length. Hearing a rustling at the window, he turned and saw an orange crested robin perched on the ledge pecking at the dusting of blossoms from the tree where the owl had sat a few hours earlier. Again a robin sighting outside his window was a first, but he was getting used to that now.

As if aware that it was being scrutinised, the robin abruptly stopped its pecking and looked up at him with beady, knowing eyes. On cue, as though following a script, the brightly coloured bird opened its beak wide, lifted its head and issued a 'chirr' like sound that rose in volume for a few seconds before morphing into a chuckle. Josh chuckled himself, and recalling the symbolism attached to the Robin - opportunities, new beginnings and good luck - he turned his gaze back to the winning Portfolio in his outstretched hands, smiled with the warmth of the new day sun that streamed through his window and declared triumphantly, "Yes, I got this. That exhibition is mine - and I shall name it 'Window of Opportunity'".

Janet Crick

June 11, 2021